


To Equivocate

by QueenofStarlight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofStarlight/pseuds/QueenofStarlight
Summary: v. to be deliberately ambiguous and unclearLance and Keith made terrible first impressions with each other, but through the magic of friendship - AKA Hunk - they manage to find common ground. Unfortunately, this common ground doesn't stop Lance's curiosity over everything that makes Keith slightly suspicious. Why does he get so uncomfortable on the subject of romance? Why did he transfer schools with only four months left of his senior year? Why doesn't he ever talk about his family, and why does Pidge get so worked up when Lance asks anything about Keith? Lance is undeniably curious, but he doesn't want to disrupt the fragile peace between them.So what does he do? He falls in love with Keith.T for Strong Language, Homophobia, Depictions of Trauma & PTSD, and Graphic Violence





	1. Chapter 1

_He can’t breathe, thick smoke filling his lungs and making his eyes tear up, blurring the red flames climbing up the walls and dancing across the carpet. The heat is unbearable, suffocating and painful, and he cries out, yelling for a person dear to him. A muffled scream is the only reply before a beam falls in front of his face, blocking the hall and throwing him back, sparks flying and burning his skin as they fall. He calls for the person again, and gains no response. The ceiling begins to crumble, audible cracks and breaks in the wood signaling him as the plaster collapses._

 

Keith wakes up in a cold sweat, his joints aching and stomach feeling like it might eject last night’s dinner if he moves too fast. Moving his head to where he can actually see, Keith realizes he’d fallen asleep at his desk, arms crossed over each other to act as a surrogate pillow. Pencils and eraser shavings are strewn around him and Keith brushes some of them onto the floor as he sits up, stretching out his too-stiff arms and yawning. The vivid images of his nightmare recede into the back of his mind, and while Keith knows they’ll never go away, there’s no point in letting his thoughts linger on the dream during the daytime when he already has to deal with it every night.

Grabbing his phone and typing in the passcode, Keith confirms that it’s already past noon, and there’s about ten unread messages from Pidge that seem to have been sent sometime around four am. It’s a Thursday, which means Pidge has school, and Keith offhandedly wonders if his friend is pulling an all-nighter. Most likely they’ve spent the morning downing cups of coffee and death-glaring anyone who dares to piss them off. Keith imagines a teacher trying to confiscate Pidge’s coffee and shudders slightly at the thought. He’s heard stories about how territorial Pidge can get with their coffee, and it’s not something he really wants to see firsthand, truth be told.

It’s already been two months since Keith moved to the city, and he still hasn’t gone to see Pidge in person since the funeral months prior. They’ve been friends for years, writing letters back and forth and calling and texting and Skyping. Despite the intense distance between the city Pidge lives in and Keith’s tiny hometown, Keith still considers them to be his only genuine friend, one of the only people he really trusts. And yet, even though he’s now only a five-minute train ride away from their house, he can’t quite muster up the strength to leave his room for anything other than the therapy sessions his brother has been more or less forcing him to attend each week.

He’s already been through three different therapists, each one more condescending than the last.

Keith opens the messages from Pidge.

[ Pidge ] (2:34 AM) hey keith  
[ Pidge ] (2:36 AM) keith did you fall asleep  
[ Pidge ] (2:37 AM) traitor  
[ Pidge ] (7:21 AM) dude are you awake yet  
[ Pidge ] (7:21 AM) how lucky you are, getting to sleep in so late  
[ Pidge ] (7:22 AM) i have to get up at 7 in the fucking morning  
[ Pidge ] (7:23 AM) every single fucking day  
[ Pidge ] (10:42 AM) keith it’s my lunch break how are you still asleep  
[ Pidge ] (10:43 AM) if you’re ignoring me i’m gonna kick your ass  
[ Pidge ] (10:45 AM) shiro says you’re still asleep so whatever  
[ Pidge ] (11:06 AM) okay well lunch break is over so bye you lazy ass

[ Keith ] (11:58 PM) Not everyone is nocturnal like you are, I was up ‘till two am last night. I was tired. And I didn’t set an alarm, that’s why I didn’t wake up.

Since Pidge is in class, Keith doesn’t expect them to reply anytime soon, so he sets his phone down and stretches, letting out a groan when he discovers an annoying crick in his neck from sleeping all hunched over. He’s just standing up when there’s a knock at his door, and his brother’s voice sounds through the wood. “Keith, are you up yet?” Keith doesn’t answer, knowing Shiro’s just going to come in anyways. And he does, the door cracking open just enough for Shiro to poke his head in, donning that soft smile that, as a kid, made Keith feel like nowhere in the world was safer than right in his brother’s arms.

Sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wishes he still felt that way.

“Oh good, you’re awake. You’ve got a session in a couple of hours.” Keith frowns, and Shiro swings the door open wider, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Keith, I know you hate them, but you really need to talk to someone about what happened. I know you won’t talk to me or Allura, so a therapist is all I have to turn to.” Shiro’s voice is pleading, and if Keith didn’t know any better, he’d say his brother was desperate. Unfortunately, Keith did know better, even if he shoved that knowledge deep into his subconscious.

He knew Shiro was only concerned for his wellbeing, and that concern wasn’t out of place. Keith had spent the last two months avoiding his brother like the plague, for more reasons than one, and he’d done hardly anything at all except for draw and put off sleeping for as long as possible.

Keith said nothing, and Shiro continues. “Look, I know you’re mad at me, and that’s okay. You have a right to be mad. But if we’re going to be living together for the next year, I need a way to know what’s going on inside your head. You’re my little brother, and I care about you.” Keith’s gut twists. “I just want to make sure you’re alright. You don’t have to tell me anything more than that. Just tell me when you’re upset so I can do something about it.”

“And what exactly would you be able to do?” Keith snaps, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “You’ve been gone for seven years, Shiro. There’s nothing you can know about me that wasn’t told to you by someone else. So what would you be able to do if I’m upset?”

Silence stretches, and Keith doesn’t have to look at Shiro to know that those words hurt. He can imagine the pain in his brother’s features, muted but still there. He hears the disappointed sigh that leaks out, and then Shiro is pushing off the door frame, running his prosthetic hand through the white tuft of hair that had faded into existence while Keith was in the hospital. “Just…be ready by two, okay? I’ll be in the garage.”

Shiro leaves, pulling the door shut behind him, and Keith doesn’t move until he can no longer hear footsteps in the hall. He sinks in his seat, loosening the tension in his back, and curses under his breath, trying to will away the ache in his chest that comes with every failed interaction with his brother. Keith thinks back to the time when he and Shiro had been practically inseparable, when it was just them and their mom and nothing in the world was more important than spending time together. Now, those memories are faded and distant in Keith’s mind, as if too far away to be real.

Standing up from his chair, Keith spends a minute or two rummaging through his wardrobe for an outfit that doesn’t make him look like an antisocial hobo. Which he is, really, but the therapist doesn’t need to know that. He opens his bedroom door slowly and peeks out, making sure Shiro is out of sight before heading to the bathroom and turning on the shower, letting the steam clear his head. As Keith tugs off his clothes, he catches sight of himself in the mirror, his hair greasy and tangled, eyes sunken-in from a lack of sleep and his skin pale from so long in the dark of his bedroom. He really does look terrible, and it’s easy to see why Shiro’s worried.

But as Keith turns and his back comes into view, he stares at the vivid burn marks crawling up his spine, only a few patches of skin left untouched from his lower back to his neck. Keith quickly turns away and hurries into the shower. He knows the burns are the real reason why Shiro’s so worried, why there’s always a hint of pity in his eyes. Keith hates that look, and it’s one of several reasons why he can hardly stand to talk to his brother for long.

He spends far too long massaging shampoo into his hair and trying not to let the hot water linger on his burns, and when Keith is finally dressed and his hair is mostly dry, it’s already almost one-thirty in the afternoon, meaning he’d spent at least an hour in the shower. Shiro’s voice can be heard from the kitchen, and when Keith hears conversation speech but no replies, he hopes his brother is on the phone and not going mad. As he comes closer, he realizes Shiro is talking about his therapy session, and assumes he’s talking to his girlfriend, Allura.

Keith likes Allura. She doesn’t infringe on his personal space, and her smiles are warm and soft. She reminds him of his mother, and while logically that fact should be incredibly painful, instead Keith just finds it comforting. Allura was a neurosurgeon, and thus she didn’t have a huge amount of free time, so she tended to visit at random hours of day and night and sometimes during lunch breaks. Keith stayed out of the way most of the times she came over, letting her and Shiro have their moments, but there had been a couple of visits where Allura had made it a point to hang out with Keith, and although he felt bad about picking favorites, he felt more comfortable around her than he did around his brother.

Tossing his pajamas into the hamper by the laundry room, Keith heads toward the kitchen, closing his bedroom door behind him and trying not to disturb Shiro’s conversation as he walks past.

Keith’s no-longer-morning breakfast generally consists of a too-tiny piece of gluten-free toast, blackberry jelly Allura had brought over weeks prior, and a cup of coconut milk. He doesn’t often eat with his brother, since most of the time Shiro is already at work when Keith finally gets up. Except, of course, on days where Shiro makes him go to therapy sessions. Like today. Shiro gives him a sideways glance that Keith ignores as he shuffles out of the kitchen with his food and takes a seat at the dining table, eating and trying not to accidentally eavesdrop.

[ Pidge ] (12:57 PM) you know, i can see why you have no life

[ Keith] (12:58) Like you’re one to talk. You’re just as antisocial as I am, and your sleep schedule is worse than mine, it’s just that I don’t have to go to school like you do.

[ Pidge ] (12:59 PM) yeah well maybe school would improve your damn depressing attitude  
[ Pidge ] (12:59 PM) and i wish you’d stop ignoring shiro  
[ Pidge ] (1:00 PM) whenever you do he complains to matt about it and then matt complains to me and tries to convince me to convince you to not ignore your brother and it’s damn annoying  
[ Pidge ] (1:02 PM) you can’t hold your stupid grudge forever, you know

Keith doesn’t respond right away. Pidge knows why he’s been so distant from his brother, and their brother Matt is coincidentally connected to Keith’s grudge against Shiro, whether the guy knows it or not. Keith doesn’t blame Matt specifically, no more than he blames Allura. It wasn’t their fault Shiro decided to stay in the city rather than come home. And deep down, Keith understands why Shiro wouldn’t have wanted to come back. He wouldn’t have come back either.

[ Keith ] (1:07 PM) I just can’t talk to him quite yet.

Pidge doesn’t reply, so he assumes they’re in class again and puts his phone down, finishing his breakfast just as Shiro hangs up the phone. “Hey. You ready to go? Go get some shoes and we can head out.” Keith nods without hesitation, following Shiro to the door. Shiro’s old and worn military boots sit up against the wall, Keith’s brand-new red converse next to them, barely having been worn at all since they were bought. After all, the only time Keith’s ever even left the house since moving in was to attend his therapy sessions, and no one wears shoes indoors.

They exchange no words as they put on their shoes, Shiro holding open the door for Keith as they make their way out of the apartment and to the pearly-white Prius Keith remembers their mom practically begging Shiro to choose. ‘It gets amazing gas mileage’ she’d said. Keith had wondered why gas mileage mattered, all he’d cared about at the time was that it looked like a spaceship from the inside and was quieter than their mom’s obnoxiously yellow Volkswagen bug.

The memory of their mother’s car seems so distant, and Keith leans against the window, drawing his knees up to his chest as the scenery flies by, grey buildings and blurry crowds of people making their way through life. A total of five minutes pass in silence before Shiro turns on the stereo. Frank Sinatra’s voice sounds in the speakers, unmistakeable, the first notes of ‘Love and Marriage’ filtering through like a familiar lullaby. The song reverberates in Keith’s memory, scenes of him and his brother belting out the lyrics in the living room while their mother videotaped, her smile wrinkling the skin around her eyes as they coaxed her dance along.

Keith prefers not to wonder if Shiro is playing the song on purpose or not.

Keith tunes everything out for the rest of the ride, and soon enough, Shiro’s announcing their arrival. The building is exactly what Keith had expected- brown brick, a couple of malnourished shrubs out front, windows covered up with metal blinds. The interior is similar, blank white walls with the occasional ocean painting or motivational poster and seats that are so immaculately clean it makes Keith wonder if anyone else ever comes here. He stands off to the sidelines as Shiro talks to the receptionist, confirming the time for his session. He returns with a small smile.

“Alright, Dr. Marshall’s gonna come see you in a bit. And Keith, please be civil.” Keith makes a face at the request. “At least _try_ , okay?” Shiro says, his Dad tone showing through a but. “Fine.” Keith replies, trying not to be snappish and scowling at the floor when he doesn’t succeed.

”Keith Kogane?”

Keith and Shiro both look up, an older man waving at them with the world’s fakest smile plastered onto his face. “I’ll be waiting right here. And Keith-” “Be civil, yeah, I got it.” Keith growls, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and pulling up his hood, following the therapist down a few halls and into an office. The man motions for him to sit and Keith does, stiff and tense.

“Alright now, Keith, tell me about the problems you’ve been having.”

 

  
An hour later, Keith and Dr. Marshall emerge from the office, Shiro standing up to meet them. Dr. Marshall pulls Shiro aside and they talk in hushed voices. Keith ignores their conversation. Soon enough, they’re shaking hands, and Shiro’s returning to Keith, walking ahead as they leave.

 

  
“So, Dr. Marshall says it might be a good idea for you to go to public school again.”

They’re in the car again, and they’ve been driving in silence long enough that Keith had begun to grow suspicious of the fact that Shiro hadn’t turned on the stereo. His suspicions were proven to be well-funded when Shiro suddenly springs the idea on him, completely unexpected.

“What? Why?” He questions, brows knitting together.

“Well, probably because staying at home all day with no social contact and nothing to properly motivate your life isn’t exactly what most people would call healthy.” Shiro says. “Allura and the Holts and I have already talked about it, actually. Katie’s school is still accepting students even though there’s less than half the school year left. It’s close enough that Allura or I could drive you there, and it’s only a short train ride away as well. The Holts live really close to the campus, so you’d be able to spend more time with Katie. You haven’t even gone to see them yet, and you’ve been in the city for months now.” Shiro says, his tone hopeful and almost excited.

Keith takes a moment to ponder the idea. Shiro’s right, he hasn’t gone to see Pidge at all since he’s moved into the city, and Pidge is literally his only friend. He’ll also need to graduate at some point, and he doesn’t have the personal motivation for homeschool. He could always just drop out and get his GED, but that isn’t particularly appealing when Keith remembers how so many people had looked down on the idea back home. Then again, those people were all assholes.

“I’ll think about it.” Keith says, leaning against the window again as they stop at a light, watching a group of teenagers race each other across the crosswalk.

Shiro lets out a breath that Keith takes as a show of surprise, and when he speaks, his tone is chipper and light, as if he’d just gotten the best news of the year. “Alright! Good! Thanks, Keith.”

Keith doesn't fight back his smile. “No problem.”

 

[ Pidge ] (2:27 PM) apparently shiro told matt that you told him you’d think about going to public school again  
[ Pidge ] (2:28 PM) if this is a lie i swear i’m going to gut matt and then you for being a pain  
[ Pidge ] (2:30 PM) i’m call you on skype and if you don’t answer i’m gonna spam you all night

Keith hurriedly logs into Skype to answer Pidge’s call, and right away he catches notice of the bags under their eyes and the Starbucks coffee cups in the background of their room.

“Pidge, did you pull an all-nighter on a school night?”

“Yes, I did, but that’s not important.”

“Yes it is-”

“Shut up Emo Boy. You’ve been living in this city for almost four months now and you still haven’t come to visit me, so I have the right to be excited that you might be coming to my school.” Pidge says, pointing at the screen accusingly. Keith shrinks a bit at that, already having felt guilt for not visiting his friend right away. “Of course, I understand why you’re kinda out of it, so I’m not mad at you. But I’m still not going to avoid trying to convince you to come see me now.”

“Anyways, about this whole school thing…” Pidge’s expression droops a bit, their tone lowering. Keith doesn’t really like how they tiptoe around the subject, but he knows why they do, and he appreciates the sentiment. “...do you think you’ll be alright? I mean, you said you’d think about it, and that’s not a definite yes, but I know you had really shitty experiences with your last school, and even though I know my school isn’t as bad with acceptance and stuff like that, I still kinda wonder if maybe it’s too soon? Maybe homeschool would be better for you? Maybe-”

“Pidge. You’re rambling.” Keith says, stopping his friend in their tracks. Pidge’s mouth quirks up into a small smile, and they let out a sigh, leaning against their tabletop.

“Sorry. I’m just...worried. And I know you hate it when people worry about you- trust me, I hate it too - but I can’t help it!”

“It’s alright. I’m grateful you aren’t as invasive with your worrying as Shiro is.”

“Y’know, he doesn’t just worry about you because you’re his brother. He worries because you’re all he has left. You can’t stay mad at him just because he left for college and decided to stay in the city instead of going back home to your shitty-ass hometown.” Pidge chastises, frowning.

“I know, Pidge. I just can’t help but be mad about the fact that he never actually told us anything. He just disappeared, Pidge. One day he just stopped calling back. We didn’t even know he was injured until the Garrison called to tell us we wouldn’t have insurance anymore because he’d resigned from the academy!”

Keith’s voice rises into a yell, and for a moment, he’s worried Shiro might have heard him, but then he remembers Shiro isn’t even home and breathes a sigh of relief. Pidge is frowning at him even deeper now, and he can tell they’re pissed with him. ‘And for good reason,’ he thinks.

“Look, yeah, that was pretty shitty. But if I know anything from what Matt’s gushed to me about Shiro, he isn’t the type of person to do something that drastic without a pretty good reason. And maybe you would know that reason if you weren’t ignoring him all the time.” They say. Keith says nothing in reply, stubbornly sticking to his grudge and not wanting to admit his friend is right. It isn’t long before Pidge gives up and changes the subject. “So, about school. What do you think?”

Keith spins idly in his desk chair. “Well...I guess I’m not really against the idea. I mean, yeah, my last school was absolutely shitty, but that was more the people who went there than the school itself. No one knows me here except you, and we’re too far away from my hometown for anyone from my past to mysteriously appear, so that’s not an issue.” He stops the movement after a bit, the spinning making him dizzy. “And I want to graduate, so I’ll have to go to school eventually. I don’t think I have the motivation for homeschool, and I don’t really wanna drop out for a GED.”

“So, I guess the easiest way to do it is just to go to school with you? I think it’ll be cool to meet those friends you’re always complaining about. I’m curious to see who else can put up with you.”

Pidge scoffs. “Oh c’mon, with Lance, it’s more about me putting up with him. He’s a pain.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Today he kicked his shoe into the gym ceiling. He literally had to go around school with one shoe for the rest of the day because they couldn’t get it down.” Pidge says with a laugh. Keith imagines the scene with little trouble, though he doesn’t actually know what Lance looks like. He’s heard enough stories from Pidge to know quite a lot about the guy, and Pidge’s other friends, Hunk and Shay. He can’t deny that he’s wanted to meet them all in person for a while. “Wait, didn’t he do the same thing on the first day of school?” Keith asks. Pidge laughs harder. “Yeah, he did!”

Keith listens to Pidge ramble on about Lance and Hunk until they have to leave to do homework. Usually the two of them would stay on a Skype call for hours after school and do their homework together, but since Keith isn’t in school right now, he counts himself out of the equation so as to not distract his friend from their studies. “Right, like I’m not an expert in ignoring people anyways. Text me if you make a decision. That’s not a request, Emo Boy.” Pidge says, smirking. “Alright, I promise I will. Now go do your homework, shortie.” Pidge rolls their eyes and ends the call.

 

  
Later that evening, after he’s been texting Pidge ‘till past midnight before finally forcing himself to go to bed so he doesn’t pass out at his desk again, Keith finds himself thinking about the prospect of public school once again, old memories shadowing his considerations.

‘Well...if Pidge is there, it can’t be that bad, right?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Love And Marriage"](https://youtu.be/BRDBvKGc1fE) by Frank Sinatra


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 was edited so there's a little more Pidge/Keith interaction, so please go read that before you start this chapter!

Keith shifts from foot to foot, his hands buried deep in his hoodie pocket to hide from the chill in the air. It’s not exactly cold anymore, just as it’s not exactly winter anymore, but it’s just past six thirty in the morning and the sun has yet to warm the world enough for complete comfort. The bus stop is empty aside from him, which he thinks is the slightest bit odd for such a big city, but he doesn’t think about it too much. It’s strangely peaceful so early in the morning, with the sun still not fully risen and the chaos of bustling traffic blurring into what almost sounds like waves.

He’s not on a main street, so there aren’t many people passing by. A woman talking loudly into her earpiece. An elderly man and his wife arguing over whether to take the bus or a taxi. A group of elementary school kids who Keith is pretty sure are too young to be out alone, though when a ruffled-looking woman comes racing after them, Keith shoves the worried thought from his mind. No one pays him even a passing glance, and Keith soaks in the feeling of not being seen.

Most people would give anything for people to notice them. Keith’s gotten enough attention to last a lifetime, even before moving to the city, far from anyone who knows him.

The bus finally pulls up, and by then, the old man and woman have returned to the bus stop, their argument seemingly rectified as they climb on, hand in hand. Keith waits for them to go first, his mouth quirking up when he sees the way the old man helps his wife up the steps, gentle smiles replacing the frustrated tones from earlier. Keith can tell they’ve been together a good long while.

The bus is almost completely full, which Keith hadn’t really been expecting considering how empty his stop had been, though he reasons that his area is not exactly popular and that all the other people were from much more crowded areas of the city. He clings to one of the support rails as the bus starts moving, swaying on his feet with each turn and lurching forward with each stop. He stares out the window as they drive, distant faces passing by, unrecognizable.

Keith stares out at the people flying by and wonders if any of those people on the street would be caught up in his whirlpool of a life. He wonders what their lives are like, how complicated their days on Earth have been, if they’ve experienced love and how nice it feels. Keith offhandedly remembers there being a word for this exact feeling, but he can’t quite think of it.

“Next Stop: Kaltenecker Road.” The intercom says, the automated woman’s voice startling Keith out of his reverie, and he scrambles to pull the stop line so he can get off. ‘Kaltenecker Road? Who the hell made the decision to call a road Kaltenecker?!’ He thinks to himself.

When he steps off the bus, Pidge is waiting for him, pulling their headphones off to hang around their neck and practically throwing themselves into Keith’s arms the moment he’s on the ground.

“Jerk! We don’t see each other in person for years and even when you finally move to the city I live in, you still put it off! What a friend you are!” Pidge says, moving off of Keith so he can see their grin, ensuring that they’re joking and not truly mad at him. “I’m glad you’re here, Emo boy.”

Keith smiles back at his friend, the cold in the air melting slightly at the sight of Pidge. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you sooner. I just...haven’t really wanted to do much of anything in a while.”

Pidge’s toothy smile fades into something more sympathetic, and had it been any other person, Keith would have gotten frustrated at seeing that look on their face. But this is Pidge, and Keith knows they’ve never pitied him, only worried about him, as any best friend should. The sympathy seeps into their tone and Keith finds it incredibly calming to hear Pidge’s voice so soft.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not mad. I just missed you is all.” They say, tucking a strand of golden brown hair back from where it was sticking out of their beanie.

Keith swings one arm around Pidge’s shoulders and turns back toward the road. “Alright, so which way are we going, shortie?” He asks, laughing when Pidge punches him in the arm.

“Oh fuck you, bean pole. And we have to go that way.” Pidge gestures vaguely across the road. “By the way, how come you never sent me your schedule like you said you would?”

“Because I haven’t gotten it yet. The school’s gonna give me one when I get there, or at least that’s what the teacher we talked to on the phone said.” Keith says.

“Well, if you want, I can show you around the place at lunch. And speaking of lunch,” Pidge pauses, just long enough for Keith to notice. “Do you wanna eat with me and my friends? Lance and Hunk have wanted to meet you for years now. It’s okay if you don’t want to though, it might be a little bit fast and I can understand that, y’know, they do get pretty rowdy sometimes-”

Keith stops Pidge’s rambling by pulling their beanie down over their eyes. “What the hell Keith?!” They shout, whacking blindly at his chest. Keith just tugs them closer and keeps walking. Pidge returns their hat to it’s place and grumbles as they stick stray clumps of hair back into it. “You didn’t need to mess up my hat. I’m hiding my bedhead under this thing, and if you expose me, I swear I’ll end you, Emo Boy.”

“Since when do you start caring what your gremlin hair looks like in public?” Keith teases.

“Since Lance started making it a huge deal when I show up to school without brushing my hair. The guy’s a beauty freak! He actually keeps dry shampoo and fucking curlers in his locker! I’ve never even seen him curl his hair, not once in the three years I’ve known him!”

Keith laughs under his breath at Pidge’s frustrated outburst and catches their smile in the corner of his eye, though he’s too concerned with making sure they don’t run into anyone to mention it. He follows Pidge’s haphazard hand gestures on where to go and they finally reach the school.

It isn’t at all what Keith had been expecting. Compared to the tiny-ass K-12 school back in his hometown, Arus high school is like an entire community. The first thing he notices is the fact that it has an actual front gate, one that he assumes is going to close when classes start, judging by the fact that there’s a guard standing out front (he’s also gotten the brunt of Pidge’s complaints about how being even half a minute late means you aren’t allowed into the school until lunch).

The paths in the courtyard are paved in a nice, deep brown-colored stone brick, tiny walls built along the edges, presumably to keep people from going onto the grass. There are carefully pruned trees and shrubbery along the sides of the buildings and the grass is cut to the exact same length all around, bright green and void of any litter. A small roundabout in the middle of the courtyard circles a massive weeping cherry tree, only a few blossoms left on the branches, and benches are placed around it, a wrought iron fence keeping people off the tree.

The school building itself is huge, surrounding the courtyard on all sides with the front gate being the only obvious way to get on and off the premises, and Keith can already tell it’s more than one story tall. Everything is perfectly designed and maintained, down to the last brick.

At least, until he discovers the giant clock above the school’s front entrance, and immediately recognizes that Roman numeral four is incorrect.

“So you noticed. They put that clock up last year because the Principal thought the front of the school looked bland. Everyone loves to complain about it.” Pidge says, following Keith’s gaze. “The Principal refuses to acknowledge the fact the four is wrong, even though he’s known ever since they made the damn thing. People put posters and shit up about it on April Fools day, just to torture him.”

“Sounds cruel.”

“Maybe. But it’s hilarious.”

Keith snorts and Pidge finally breaks out of his hold to put their headphones in their bag. “C’mon Emo Boy, it’s time you get back into the public school mood!”

“This isn’t like any public school I’ve ever been to. Are you sure this isn’t Arus Academy?”

“Keith, this school is tiny compared to some of the schools in this city. I mean, you’ve been to the Garrison, you know how huge that place is. It’s like a city just on its own.” Pidge says.

“Yeah, but you never saw the school I used to go to. The entire school building was hardly bigger than this _courtyard_. Just the courtyard.” Keith replies, still staring up at the school incredulously.

Pidge gives him a Look. “I’m not gonna come looking all over campus for you if you get lost on your first day of school.”

“...noted.”

 

 

When they enter the school, Keith finds himself standing in what could almost pass for a chapel had it been decorated differently. The ceiling is tall enough that the two upper floors can be seen, the edges blocked by walls of glass rather than metal railings. On the floor is a mural of a white lioness, the name of the school written out beneath it, and Keith assumes it’s the school mascot. He’s glad for it to be a lioness and not something pointless like a miner or lumberjack.

Pidge tugs on his arm, and he turns to follow as they lead him into what he assumes is the main office, a young man with a fake smile greeting them as they enter. Keith doesn’t listen to half of what the man says, just explains his purpose and waits patiently, taking his schedule with a quiet thank you and letting Pidge drag him back out of the office, only half-hearing their grumpy complaints about how obvious it is that the secretary couldn’t care less about the students.

Keith unconsciously clings to Pidge’s smaller form as the noise levels increase, more and more voices filling up the high-ceilinged hallways as they make their way out of the main lobby. Pidge doesn’t comment on it, only keeps walking, pointing out important places for him to remember as they continue weaving through the growing crowd. Keith looks down at his schedule and reads out his first period class- Calculus. He groans, and Pidge gives him a look of sympathy.

“Well, at least you don’t have P.E. first thing in the morning, like I do.” They say with a disgusted frown. “You have no idea how terrible it is to have to do laps when it’s still dark out, or when it’s colder than the fucking arctic. It’s not even enjoyable P.E. because everyone’s still half-asleep.”

“Damn, that sucks.” Keith says. As a Senior, he’s already taken all his P.E. classes, and he feels a little bit bad for Pidge, who skipped two years to end up a Junior but is still stuck with P.E.

Pidge nods solemnly and tugs him out of the main hall and into a smaller hall off to the side, with one door on either side of the short five-foot walkway. They point to the door on the left and turn to Keith with a sigh. “Well, this is your first period class. Text me when you get out if you need help finding your other classes, but I gotta hurry ‘cause my class is on the other side of school. See you later!” Keith waves as Pidge starts running, a teacher yelling after them to walk.

Keith turns to the door and takes a deep breath, pulling the door open just enough to squeeze in. The classroom is crowded compared to the school in his hometown, with at least thirty bodies spread out between long wooden tables holding two students each. Keith looks around for an empty and takes a seat at the only one, silently praying that no one else tries to sit by him.

Unfortunately, the seat next to him is the only one left, and of course, someone else comes in.

Keith is just pulling out his notebook and pencil when the door to the classroom opens with a loud creaking of hinges that makes Keith cringe, and he turns toward to source of the sound to find a lanky, dark-skinned boy who looks like he regrets having come in at all. A couple of other people in the room shoot him glares but no one says anything, and Keith turns away before his gaze can meet anyone else’s. He zips up his bag and scoots his chair out a bit so he can store it away underneath the table.

It’s impeccably bad timing, as when he scoots backward, the lanky boy’s foot catches on the leg of the chair - why had he been behind Keith in the first place?! - and he falls, knocking the chair over in the process and bringing Keith down with him. He ends up on top off the guy, his chair on the guy’s legs, and it’s a loud enough debacle that the entire class’ attention is turned on them, making Keith want to curl in on himself like a crab retreating inside its shell.

He ignores the eyes on him and scrambles to upright his chair, uncaring of the body he squishes in the process of getting up. “Ouch, jeez! Can’t you be a little more gentle?” It complains.

“No.” Keith snaps, glaring down at the lanky boy on the floor he’s now realizing has eyes so blue it’s almost startling. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you didn’t go around dragging people on top of you.”

The lanky boy gives him a look as if he’s just been told he looks like the wrong end of llama. “Oh, you say that like it’s _my_ fault we both fell!”

“It _was_ your fault! You pulled my entire chair over!”

“Only because you scooted in front of my foot and made me trip!”

“You shouldn’t have been behind me in the first place!”

“The seat next to you is the only empty seat in the entire room! Where else was I supposed to go?!”

“Boys!” The teacher yells, breaking through the argument. Keith and his aggressor both snap to her, and the small woman crosses her arms over her chest with an indignant huff. “You two need to shut up and sit down right now or you’ll both end up in detention! And I know for a fact that isn’t going to be a good first impression, Mr. Kogane.” Keith avoids her gaze, knowing she’s right, and sinks into his chair, leaning down to pick up the pencil that had rolled onto the floor in the scuffle.

“And you, McClain.” The teacher says sharply, the boy next to Keith tensing. “You’ve never been in detention before so I won’t hold this against you, but if it happens again, you’re out.”

“Yes ma’am.” The boy - Something McClain - replies, taking the empty seat next to Keith as the teacher returns to the front of the room, starting to go over the class plans for the day. Keith pulls at a string fraying from the sleeve of his sweatshirt and avoids McClain’s eyes, hoping for the class to go by quickly so he can leave and not look at the guy ever again.

He and McClain both pointedly avoid any interaction with one another for the rest of first period, and when the bell finally rings, Keith is already packed and heading out the door without so much as a glance backward at the first person his age outside of Pidge he’s talked to since moving to the city.

The second Keith is out of the classroom, he’s pulling his hood up over his head and pulling his earbuds out of his bag, scrolling through the list of music on his phone until he finds Jupiter. The instrumental beginning of the song drowns out the chaos of the school crowds and Keith takes a deep breath, looking over the map he’d been given by the office staff and making his way toward his next class. No one tries to talk to him on the way, and he’s grateful for the temporary solitude.

He makes it to his next class without issue and the 75-minute period passes quickly, too quickly for a class Keith actually enjoys. His Creative Writing teacher, Ms. Price, is a pleasant woman, a soft but stern air around her that reminds Keith of Allura. They spend the class going over ways to improve flow in writing and by the time the bell rings, Keith has a good five pages of notes.

From then on, he goes through both American Literature and Government with little interest, taking notes as needed but more or less allowing the information to go in one ear and out the other.

When the bell rings again and lunch period is finally upon him, Keith heaves a sigh of relief and packs up his things, pulling out his phone to shoot a text to Pidge as he heads back out into the hallway and toward where the map says the cafeteria is located.

[ Keith ] (10:43) Where do you and your friends eat lunch? Can you come find me?

[ Pidge ] (10:44) i told you i wasn’t gonna come get you if you got lost

[ Keith ] (10:45) I’m not lost, I just don’t know how the hell to find you in this crowd. You’re tiny.   
[ Keith ] (10:45) I’m in the main hall, by the bathrooms.

[ Pidge ] (10:46) fuck you

Before Keith can respond to Pidge’s aggressive text, his name is being called out over the noise of the hallway, and he turns to find Pidge shoving their way through the crowd, latching onto his sleeve once they make it close enough.

“I’m not fucking tiny. Now c’mon. Lance, Hunk and I eat in the hallway where the lockers are, since there’s never anyone there and the cafeteria is so loud you can’t even hear yourself think.”

Pidge leads him through a doorway off the main hall, across from where the cafeteria is, and into a wide, elongated room with hundreds of black painted lockers lining the walls. True to Pidge’s statement, there’s no one else in the room, and Keith takes Pidge’s lead as they stop at locker number 402 and plop down underneath it, patting the floor beside them. Keith sits down and rummages around in his bag for his lunch, enjoying the silence of the room.

It doesn’t last long, as soon enough, a pair of voices sound in the entrance, and Keith looks up from where he’d been about to open up the tuperware of leftover gluten-free pancakes Shiro had packed for him, only to notice that one of the voices belongs to McClain, who is grinning from ear to ear as he chats with a taller, larger boy about something Keith doesn’t care to eavesdrop on.

Keith makes a face of annoyance, and when McClain sees him sitting next to Pidge, the look on his face mirrors exactly the emotion keith is feeling.

“You’ve gotta be joking!” McClain says, frowning. “ _He’s_ Pidge’s long-distance childhood friend?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Jupiter"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqrEox67O78) by Sleeping At Last


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not Catholic, nor have I ever been Catholic. So the only knowledge I have of Catholicism is what Google or my mom tells me. Please let me know if I get anything drastically wrong, but otherwise, I would appreciate if you not comment on the general religious portrayal in this fic. Thanks.

Lance has known Pidge for almost a year now, and he has never once seen Pidge act as weird as they have been in the last two and a half months.

He first notices something is up when Pidge gets a call in the middle of lunch one day. They take the call, and Lance watches their expression go from confusion to shock to worry all in a span of about three minutes. Their voice is shaking, so quiet that Lance strains to hear what is being said is still only able to make out the words “hospital” and “fire.” The call ends and Pidge stands there at the end of their special hallway, staring down at their cell phone as if time has stopped. Lance and Hunk had shared a look of equal concern, curiosity egging at their brains.

When Pidge turns back to them, they’re wearing a smile so painfully fake that it makes Lance’s gut churn having to see his friend in such a way. Pidge, who is always so brutally honest, who can’t stand when people hide their feelings, who hates secrets more than anything in the world.

Lance eyes Pidge when they walk back over to their small group, and Hunk is the first to ask if they’re alright, inquiring as to what the phone call was about. Pidge just shrugs and takes a seat, pausing as if thinking of what to say. “It’s nothing. Just my brother calling to give me some news.” They say, busying themself with digging through the remains of their lunch. Hunk frowns, and a moment passes before Lance is reaching forward, pulling the tray out of Pidge’s hands.

“It’s not _nothing_ , Pidge. We could see your expression from here. I’ve never seen you look upset like that, and your voice was shaking. We’re not stupid.” He says, a bit harshly.

“You can open up to us.” Hunk adds in. “If it’s something confidential, we have no one to tell.”

Pidge hesitates, and Lance can see the facade falling. They pull their knees up to their chest and push their glasses a bit higher on their nose, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know all the details yet but...a really good friend of mine is in the hospital right now. We-” Pidge pauses, and Lance catches sight of tears welling up in their eyes. “We don’t know if he’s going to make it…”

Hunk reaches over to wrap an arm around Pidge’s shoulders, and they let the tears fall, quiet, muffled sobs ringing out in the hall. Lance takes up a position on Pidge’s other side and leans on their shoulder, entwining his fingers with theirs, and Pidge cries, letting out emotions Lance had never even imagined them showing. He had never once imagined seeing Pidge cry, not when he saw how they reacted to people teasing them, with deadpan sarcasm and hard glares.

This is a whole new side of Pidge that Lance had never expected, and offhandedly wonders who it is that Pidge is crying for. He hardly remembers Pidge ever talking about any friends outside of him and Hunk- but then again, he really hasn’t known Pidge all that long, has he?

Neither Lance nor Hunk question Pidge about the situation any further, and once they’ve calmed down and are wiping away the remaining tears, their smile returns, small but genuine.

“Thanks guys.” They say gratefully.

“Anytime, Shortie.” Lance replies with a smirk, getting a slap to the arm in return. He laughs and playfully shoves Pidge over into Hunk, inciting a laugh from both of his friends. The bell rings, and Lance offers to walk Pidge to their class, though they politely decline, saying they’re perfectly fine now and don’t need a babysitter. Lance and Hunk watch them fade into the sea of students.

Two weeks later, Pidge suddenly skips school for a straight three days, without so much as a text to let them know. Lance is worried, and Hunk asks the front office if Pidge’s absences were excused, receiving a reply that they were allowed to take time off of school for a “family event.” The explanation is confusing and holds no detail, as can be expected of school office staff, and it does little to lessen the suspicion and honest-to-God curiosity Lance and Hunk share.

Pidge returns to school with the same solemn expression Lance had hoped he’d never have to see again, though it lifts the moment they approach Lance and Hunk, dragging them both in for a hug.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you guys I was gonna be gone. I was...at a funeral, out of town. We didn’t have very good reception there so I couldn’t call to tell you guys anything.”

The first thing that pops into Lance’s mind is the memory of Pidge crying over their friend who had been in the hospital at the time. _We don’t know if he’s going to make it._ Looking over at Hunk, it’s clear he’s having the same thought process. Pidge seems to catch on as well, and then their face is warping into something panicked and almost relieved.

“No, no! My friend is fine! Well, he’s not _fine_ , but...he’s not the one who died.” Pidge explains, a tiny half-smile playing on their lips. “It was a friend of my family who passed away recently.”

Relief dawns on Lance, though he still wonders who exactly the funeral was for. Pidge doesn’t say anything more and starts to walk down the hall, leaving Lance and Hunk to hurry after them before they disappear in the crowd. A comfortable conversation arises as they walk, and it’s nice to see that Pidge is somewhat back to normal, the bags under their eyes now gone.

Even so, the hollow look that had been on their face still plays on repeat in Lance’s mind.

 

Another two weeks pass by, and then Pidge comes to school excited, grinning every time Lance and Hunk saw them. Neither of them inquire as to why until it’s lunch period and Pidge still hasn’t stopped smiling for even a second, looking down at the same message on their phone.

“So...Pidge.” Lance starts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock suspicion. “What’s got you smiling so much? You haven’t looked so chipper since you hacked into that one football dude’s home computers and posted his internet history all over the school.”

“He called me a liar when I said I skipped two grades because of hacking knowledge, so he got what he deserved. And as for why I’m smiling, it’s because my friend is moving to our city!”

Lance and Hunk share a look. “The same friend who was in the hospital?” Hunk asks sheepishly.

“Uh, yeah. Same friend.” Pidge’s blinding smile dims a bit, and they look almost nostalgic now, a glint in their eye making it seem like they’re seeing something other than what’s in front of them.

“Is he alright? Your friend, I mean. When you first told us he was in the hospital, you said you didn’t know if he was gonna make it. And then when you got back from that funeral you said he was fine but not _fine_. So I’m a little confused.” Hunk rambles, earning a chuckle from Pidge.

“Well, he’s going to be okay. Physically, at least. I don’t know how he’s going to deal with all the emotional stress he’s surely feeling right now. He hasn’t talked to me at all yet.”

The worried expression Lance and Hunk had both been wearing earlier is now mirrored in Pidge’s features as they look down at their phone again, clutching it tighter in their hand. “He’s not the best at sharing his feelings with others, so I’m worried he’ll try and bottle it all up and then just let it all out by doing something really fucking stupid and getting himself even more hurt.”

Lance can’t find anything to say to that, and a glance at Hunk confirms that he’s in the same spot despite being the usual Group Therapist. Pidge leans their head back on the locker behind them and sighs, shoulders drooping and cell phone slipping out of their hand onto the tiled floor.

“I just...I worry about him, y’know? The same way you guys worry about me. But the difference is that I appreciate you guys worrying about me, even if I don’t always want you to.” They say. “My friend doesn’t see it that way, though. He thinks that people worrying about him is the same as people pitying him, and pity is something he hates more than anything, _especially_ now.”

“Well…” Lance starts, struggling to find the right words. “Maybe what you need to do is just be there for him?”

Pidge shoots him a confused look and Lance blanks. Hunk covers for him.

“He means that you should just let him know you’re supporting him. You don’t need to try and get him to spill out all his feelings, because if he feels comfortable with you, he’ll do that on his own eventually.” He says. “We don’t know what the situation is, but I think the best thing you can do is distract him from the pain and make sure he doesn’t fall too deeply into it.”

Pidge stares back at Hunk and then at Lance, seemingly contemplating what they’d said, and their face brightens into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys. That makes a lot of sense.”

Hunks grins widely and wraps one hand around Pidge’s fingers. Lance just smiles. “It’s our job.”

 

Another couple weeks pass, and Pidge’s mood improves. They explain to Lance and Hunk that their friend has started texting them again, and while it was awkward at first, it didn’t take long for them to get back into their usual conversations. Lance sees the way Pidge returns to their old self, the way their face lights up whenever their cell phone vibrates, the way they’ll drown out anything and everything around them in favor of responding to a message. It’s almost endearing to see Pidge so happy.

He offhandedly wonders if Pidge lights up like that when he or Hunk messages them.

The two month mark since Pidge’s friend “officially” moved to their city hits, and Lance knows Pidge hasn’t had a chance to see their friend yet. He knows they would have told him and Hunk about it the second it had happened- he hopes they would, at least.

But then he’s walking to school, Hunk at his side, and they both receive a group message from Pidge saying they won’t be able to meet them in the morning before class. Before either of them can question why, another message comes through saying that Pidge’s friend has decided to go to school at Arus High, and that they want to be able to show him around without overwhelming him right off the bat by bringing him to meet new people. He’s not a “people person,” they say.

Sure enough, when Lance and Hunk arrive the next morning, Pidge isn’t waiting in the courtyard for them. They don’t see Pidge anywhere when they enter the school. Lance wills his curiosity to disappear but it doesn’t, and he finds himself wondering if Pidge is going to bring their friend to eat lunch with their group. A text as he enters his homeroom class confirms that yes, they are.

Lance never gets a chance to reply though, because as he’s starting his message, he trips on a chair scooting backwards into his leg, and then he’s on the floor with a stranger on top of him.

Lance’s “fateful” encounter with the mysterious mullet-sporting new kid named Kogane is one he doesn’t really want to think about. Even if it was still Kogane’s fault, the fact he fell and ended up in a rather compromising position with a guy Lance can’t help but admit is attractive is still quite embarrassing and Lance prays the incident won’t leave the classroom.

When Calculus is over, Kogane leaves before Lance has a chance to say anything- not that he was planning on it, of course. Lance goes to his next few classes praying he won’t have to see the guy again, and he doesn’t. Not until lunch, at least.

His surprise when he finds out that Kogane is in fact Pidge’s friend is justified, Lance thinks.

“Uh...yeah?” Pidge says, quirking an eyebrow. “Do you two already know each other?”

“Yes! He tripped me in homeroom!” Lance yells, pointing accusingly at Kogane.

“Oh, I tripped you?! You dragged my entire chair onto the floor!” Keith yells back with a frown.

“You’re still blaming it on me?! No way! It was entirely your fault for being too far into the aisle!”

“You weren’t supposed to be standing behind me anyways!”

“Like I said, there was only one open seat, and it was next to you! I had no choice!”

Lance and Kogane continue to bicker, and with every new sentence, Lance sees Kogane’s face scrunch up more until his mama’s voice is sounding in the back of his head saying ‘your face is gonna get stuck like that if you keep frowning so hard.’ The thought interrupts Lance’s entire train of thought and he cracks up laughing, the tension in the hall dissipating.

“What do you think you’re laughing at?!” Kogane snarls, his frown less angry and more confused.

“No, it’s not you, it’s just…the face you were making…” Lance’s words cut out as he heaves for air in between, wiping a couple of tears from his eyes. “...it’s so intense it’s gonna get stuck like that.”

Kogane looks completely confused now, and Pidge is stifling a laugh from beside him. Kogane shoots a look at them as if he were being betrayed, which only makes Pidge laugh more, and it’s like the argument never happened, because Lance and Pidge are laughing and Kogane is looking confusedly between the two of them while Hunk just watches the scene unfold.

“Okay, so. Yeah, we met in homeroom, and we fell. And got scolded. And then proceeded to not talk to each other the rest of the class. So, we know _of_ each other, but we don’t _know_ each other.” Lance explains. “We don’t know each other’s first names, either.”

“Makes sense.” Pidge says, pushing their glasses up on their nose. “Anyways, this is Keith,” They gesture vaguely to Kogane, who frowns at Lance.

“This is Lance,” Lance smirks and winks, making Keith frown even deeper. “And this is Hunk.” Hunk waves with a hearty smile and Keith waves lightly back.

“Wait,” Keith says, pointing to Lance with a look of disbelief. “ _He’s_ Lance? _The_ Lance?” Keith stares at Lance for a good long moment and then nods. “You’re right, he _is_ annoying.”

“Hey! You trash-talked about me to him? What the hell Pidge?!” Lance yells, offended.

Pidge just shrugs. “I mean, you are annoying sometimes.”

“How?!”

“Um, let’s see: you nag me when I have bedhead, you nag me about my haircut, you can’t stay out of people’s business if it even vaguely interests you, you flirt with _everyone_ \- and your pickup lines are _terrible_. And you walk way too fast because of your freakishly long legs. There’s plenty to be annoyed by. Doesn’t mean you don’t have redeeming qualities.”

"Well, I’m glad you at least recognize I _have_ redeeming qualities.”

A smirk tugs at Pidge’s lips that Lance hasn’t seen in a long time, and he can’t help smiling as well. His eyes wander to Keith, and for a split second, he sees the most melancholy expression in the raven-haired boy’s features, though it’s gone as quickly as Lance sees it, Keith turning his head to stare down at his packed lunch instead of at them. Lance watches Keith for a few beats longer before Pidge is talking to him again, asking if he finished his English essay.

He hasn’t. Hunk helpfully alerts him to the fact that said essay is due in two hours, and then Lance is panicking. He feels Pidge and Keith’s gazes boring into his head as he pulls out paper and a pencil, Hunk reminding him of the topic and giving out pointers while Lance scribbles down whatever comes to mind in illegible chicken-scratch.

Lance barely registers Pidge and Keith talking quietly next to him, too absorbed in trying to write an entire three-page essay on Macbeth in the limited time he has left of lunch period. He’s only gotten one and a half pages done by the time the bell rings, and a good portion of the words are crossed out and replaced with other things. Lance lets out a sigh and rushes to finish eating his sandwich, holding it in one hand while shoving his things back into his bag with the other.

“I’d tell you to try and work on your essay in class, but you have Iverson next period, so instead I’m going to tell you to try not to piss him off and get detention. Again.” Hunk says.

“Yeah, I know.” Lance mumbles out around a mouthful of bread. Hunk shoots him a look, and he swallows before speaking again. “Don’t worry about me, big man, I’ll find time to get it done.”

“Hey Lance! Keith has Iverson next period. You’re in the same class.”

Lance turns to find Pidge staring at him with a smirk, Keith glaring at the paper in his hands that Lance assumes is his class schedule. Keith glances up, and their gazes meet, violet meeting blue in mutual half-assed glares.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Lance says, ignoring the way Keith’s face scrunches up in distaste.

“Well, I’m not, so you’re stuck with this wonderful stroke of fate.” Pidge says, looking smug.

“Yeah...wonderful…”

Pidge ignores his sarcastic tone and turns back to Keith, saying something to him too quietly for Lance to hear, and then they’re leaving, patting Lance’s shoulder in mock comfort as they pass. Keith shoves his class schedule into his bag and runs a hand through his hair. Lance tracks the movement and then snaps back to attention as the second bell rings, easily causing another onset of panic to rise up in his chest.

“Shit, we gotta go! C’mon!” He yells, grabbing Keith’s wrist and dragging him down the hall. Keith says something about not needing to be dragged, and Lance lets go, the two of them racing to the Advanced Physics room, where Lance stops abruptly. He glances at Keith, who looks back at him confusedly, and then the door is opening for them, Iverson glaring even harsher than Keith had in first period.

“You’re late, McClain.” He booms, Lance automatically shrinking under his gaze. “If you don’t have the decency to get to class on time, perhaps you should be transferred to an easier class.”

Lance stares down at the tiled floor, fingers wrapping tighter around the straps of his backpack. Iverson has never liked him, for _reasons_ , and being chewed out in front of the entire class - in front of Keith - is making him more uncomfortable than he’s been in front of any other teacher in his life.

“Actually, sir, it was my fault we’re both late.”

Lance glances over at Keith, who is staring at Iverson with a cold glare that is about ten times more intense than the glare he’d shot at Lance that morning. Iverson is staring back just as intensely and the tension in the air is thick enough to cut.

“Is that so? And you are?” Iverson says.

Lance watches Keith straighten, gaze unmoving from Iverson’s. “Keith Kogane, sir. I just started school here today, and I got us both distracted. Lance helped me find this class.” He says, voice calm despite the fact he’s staring down the most terrifying teacher in the whole of Arus High.

“And besides, sir, we were literally only one minute past the start of class.”

If it were any other teacher, Lance would’ve had to choke back laughter at the sarcasm in Keith’s tone, but since it’s Iverson, he’s extra careful not to show any amusement.

Like a miracle from heaven, Iverson turns away from the two of them, walking back into the room and toward his desk. Lance watches him go incredulously, and then Keith is pulling on his arm, gesturing toward the two open seats at the back of the room. “C’mon, let’s sit down so he doesn’t have another reason to get pissed off at us.” He says, and Lance nods slowly, following Keith and sitting down next to him as Iverson begins his lecture.

They both pull out their textbooks and notebooks in silence, Iverson droning on at the front of the class. After a minute or two has passed, Lance leans closer to Keith and whispers.

“Thanks. For standing up for me.”

Keith smiles at him, and Lance’s heart swells. “No need to thank me, he was being an asshole.” Then the smile is gone again. “Besides, I know how it feels to be treated like you’re worthless.”

Lance wants to ask Keith what he means by that, but then Iverson is asking the class a question, and Keith is raising his hand to answer. He answers correctly. Lance turns to his notes and starts writing down everything that spews out of Iverson’s mouth.

Lance doesn’t get a chance to talk to Keith anymore, and by the time class is over, he’s forgotten all about it.

 

“So, where to next, Mullet?” Lance asks as they’re leaving Physics.

“...Mullet? Seriously?” Keith looks at Lance with an expression of confusion and disbelief. Lance just shrugs, taking the class schedule from Keith’s hands.

“You have a mullet, and mullets aren’t common these days. So you’re Mullet now.” He says, pointedly not looking at Keith, lest he be glaring. “Oh hey, we’ve both got a free period!”

“Free period?”

“Yeah. What, did you not have free periods at your last school?”

“No.”

“Huh. Well, basically it means we have a study period. Not that anyone actually studies.” Lance explains. “Why didn’t your school have free periods?”

“I dunno. It might be because it was a Catholic school. Our free period was probably replaced with the class we took on Catholic religion.”

“Whoa, you went to Catholic school? You don’t seem very religious to me. No offense.”

“None taken. And I’m not. The town I lived in was, though.”

Keith looks distant at the mention of his hometown, and Lance decides to change the subject as the two of them head up a flight of stairs. He leads Keith to the library, a giant set of double doors that open up into room just as high-ceilinged as the front hall of the school, two stories of books and computers and tables with students going over homework or passed out over their textbooks. Lance takes a good few seconds to admire the look of awe on Keith’s face before he steps over to a table and plops down into a chair, relaxing instantly.

“Come sit down, the chairs in here are super comfortable.” He says, and Keith sits, looking around another moment or two before seemingly snapping back to reality. Lance leans his cheek against the cool wood of the table and watches Keith ruffle through his bag, pulling out a thick red leather-bound book and flipping through the pages, setting a tin of fancy pencils on the table as he leans back in the chair and stares at the page.

“What’cha doin’?” Lance asks. Keith’s gaze doesn’t move.

“Nothing.” He says, reaching for one of the pencils. He’s sketching, Lance can tell, but he doesn’t say anything more, so neither does Lance, just watches Keith and listens to the sound of pencil on paper.

 

Lance ends up falling asleep, and wakes up to Keith shaking him, mumbling about how the bell just rang and they’re both going to be late to class if he doesn’t hurry up. Lance scrambles to sit up, hastily wiping away the pool of drool on the table with his sleeve (His face definitely doesn’t heat up when he catches Keith smirking at him while he cleans. He does get scolded by the librarian when he swears at Keith for laughing.) and then they’re hurrying out the door and down the hall, Keith apparently knowing where to go this time.

When they get to the staircase where they’ll inevitably have to split up, Lance pulls on Keith’s bag strap before he can leave. Keith looks at him, and Lance digs his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey, uh, I don’t think we’re gonna get a chance to see each other again today, and I know you’re Pidge’s friend so it’s really no rush, but can we trade phone numbers?” He asks, holding out his phone to Keith. “Just so you can text me when you get lost again instead of texting Pidge.”

Keith scoffs, but takes Lance’s phone anyway, typing in his phone number under the name “Keith.” Lance quickly changes it.

“Thanks man. See you tomorrow then?” Lance says. He already knows the answer.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Lance watches Keith run up the stairs two at a time, smiling to himself. He looks at the new contact in his phone and takes a screenshot of it, sending the evidence of Keith’s new nickname to Keith, Pidge, and Hunk in a group message. Keith is the only one who responds.

[ Le Mullet ] (12:59 PM) Fuck you Lance.

Lance can’t help but laugh. Despite his first impressions of Keith from their chair debacle that morning, he can already see himself getting along with Keith. To a certain extent, at least.

Then the bell is ringing again, and he’s panic-running his way down the stairs, tripping on the last step. It isn't until he slips into his seat next to Hunk in English that he realizes he forgot to finish his essay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the abyss!! I've been working a shitton so I haven't had a ton of time to write, and on top of that I've been super stuck with how to bridge the current chapters of this fic with the chapters I already had planned out (and I also have like 5.2 billion AUs that need to be worked on). Luckily, my good friend Alle was able to help me get unstuck, and pretty much sparked ideas for the bridge. So now the fic is completely planned out..

It really only takes a week for Lance and Hunk to fully get used to Keith, and the curiosity and concern of Pidge’s mysterious story - which they’re both convinced is referring to Keith, though neither of them have the balls to actually ask Pidge  _ or _ Keith for confirmation - has receded to the backs of both their minds. Or at least neither of them bring it up, to each other or anyone else.

Lance, being in three of Keith’s class periods, ends up spending the most time with him out of everyone in their small group. He notices things about Keith during class, such little things he almost wonders  _ why _ he’s noticing. How Keith holds his pencil with his fingers all scrunched up close to the tip. How the black bottle Keith has always smells like espresso. How he seems to zone out completely during class, staring only at the teacher throughout the entire lesson with laser-beam focus.

Lance wishes he had laser-beam focus too. Instead, he keeps getting distracted by Keith.

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, depending on who you are in this situation), it’s Hunk who first has the idea that maybe Lance is so easily distracted by Keith because he likes him.  _ Like _ likes him.

“Nope, nopety-nope nope! No way. C’mon Hunk, it’s  _ Keith! _ I’ve known him for what, a week? People don’t just fall in love with other people in a week. And it’s Keith!  _ Keith! _ He has a  _ mullet _ , and he drinks his coffee black. Do you really see me dating someone who drinks their coffee black?”

Hunk looks at him as if he’s an idiot, and when Lance actually processes his words, he kind of does sound like an idiot. Not that he’d ever admit that, even to Hunk.

“Okay, first of all,” Hunk starts, totally sounding like a mom about to roast her child. “I didn’t say you’re  _ in love _ with Keith. I said you might  _ like _ him. Might not seem like it to you, but there  _ is _ a difference. Second, he doesn’t really have a mullet, you just like calling it that because you’re a little shit. And third, you like pineapple pizza, so you have no right to complain about Keith drinking his coffee without three ounces of sugar.”

Lance crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, properly chastised. “Whatever, Hunk.”

Hunk gives him the Mom Look that says ‘we’re gonna talk about this whether you want to or not’ and Lance barely stifles a groan, knowing Hunk’s just as bad as he is at staying out of people’s shit, if not worse.

(Of course, the difference between them is that Hunk pries  _ knowing _ he’s prying and that it’s gonna have backlash, whereas Lance is aware he just fails to acknowledge people’s boundaries. Which he feels bad about, most of the time, but he has that habit of just...unconsciously ignoring when people very obviously want him to just fucking shut up and stop talking about something.)

“Look, just because you may or may not have feelings for Keith - which I’m saying you do, and you know I’m right, but-” Hunk pauses with emphasis on the ‘but’. “-you’re stubborn, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

Hunk shoots Lance another Mom Look that says he’d better fess up soon, and Lance’s argument dies on his lips, his shoulders drooping as he sighs rather pathetically. Hunk chuckles.

“Aw, it’s not so bad, buddy. You don’t have to act on it now. At least not until you’ve figured out your feelings and whatnot. I mean, remember that one time we brought up sexuality with Keith…”

Hunk pauses, as if hesitating to say what Lance is already thinking: Keith doesn’t seem at all like he’d react happily to a confession. His closed-off stance when they chatted about sexuality and the few other times they’ve discussed romance showed his obvious aversion to both subjects.

Which really doesn’t help Lance’s thought process, and he understands why Hunk didn’t want to voice the opinion out loud, because if Lance really  _ does _ like Keith, well, he’s kind of fucked.

  
  
  
  


The first time Lance discovers something truly intimate about Keith is one day during their free period in the library, a week or so after that particularly uncomfortable conversation with Hunk, wherein Lance is gushing about his little niece’s birthday party the night before. She’d just turned four and it had been a special event indeed, with the entire family coming to attend a Frozen-themed celebration complete with Let It Go playing continuously in the background. When Lance denies that he’s started hating the song, Keith seems dumbfounded.

Then Lance asks about Keith’s family, and his expression goes from playfully dumbfounded to a mix of hesitant and sad in a split second. 

“I uh,” He starts, sounding wary. “It’s just me and my brother, Shiro. He’s twenty-five. My dad left when I was a little kid, I don’t know what the Hell happened to him, and Shiro’s dad died before I was born.”

Lance doesn’t say anything, doesn’t break eye contact with Keith. 

“And my mom, she...well, she’s-” 

And then the bell rings overhead, startling Lance and Keith both. Lance doesn’t push for Keith to continue, and he doesn’t. They pack up their things in turn and head out of the library together.

It’s loud in the hallway, so they don’t try to talk over the buzz, though Lance does find himself in a fit of laughter as he watches Plaxum and Florona, two of his classmates since Junior High, get scolded by a teacher for making out in plain sight. Lance’s attention deviates from the two girls just long enough to catch a glimpse of Keith watching them, his face unreadable.

Keith turns forward again and keeps walking, and Lance is left to wonder why Keith looks so painfully uncertain. He simply hopes his thoughts on Plaxum and Florona kissing aren’t...bad.

Lance follows close to Keith as the hall grows more tight, and it quickly dawns on Lance that it isn’t normal for a side hall to be so packed full of students. Something must be happening. Then he hears Pidge’s voice somewhere in the crowd. They sound frustrated, though Lance can’t make out what they’re saying. Instead of stopping to ask someone, he starts to squeeze through the crowd of students, offering muffled “excuse me’s” to the people he passes. 

There’s a clearing in the middle of the crowd, as is to be expected, and Lance finds that they’re all in a half-circle around the bathrooms. Pidge is there, red in the face and fuming. A taller, broader,  _ uglier _ (in Lance’s humble opinion) male he thinks is named Chase is standing between Pidge and the unisex bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face. The crowd of onlookers have blocked both the men’s and women’s restrooms on either side.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Pidge yells, obviously far past the point of keeping their cool.

“My problem? My  _ problem _ ?!” Chase says in return, sounding like a total fuckboy. “My problem is that you think you have the right to go in here.”

“It’s a unisex bathroom! I have every right!” 

“Oh really? But I thought you were, oh, what’s the word? Nonincendiary-”

“Non _ binary _ -” Pidge corrects.

“-and doesn’t that mean you don’t  _ identify _ with either gender or whatever the fuck?” Chase puts air quotes around the word ‘identify’ and Lance wants to punch him in the face. 

Pidge doesn’t respond, but Lance can see how their body tightens more.

“In that case, you don’t really belong here either, because unisex means either gender, and you, my friend, are neither. So-”

Lance sees a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and then Keith is there, tackling Chase to the ground before the guy can finish his sentence. There’s a crunch of bone on bone and Lance can see the pain in Keith’s face, the blood on his knuckles. He lands another two punches to the asshole’s face as students egg him on, Pidge watching from the side, as if debating whether or not to intervene. 

Lance goes to help but is immediately shoved to the side by none other than Iverson, who sends the crowd fleeing from the scene. In a few short seconds there’s not a single bystander left in the hall, only Lance, Pidge, Keith, Chase, and Iverson, who now has both arms hooked under Keith’s armpits and is dragging him off Chase. Lance winces as Iverson practically drops Keith, holding up a hand when he scrambles to his feet, still looking pissed as Hell. Chase is getting up off the floor with a similar expression, one hand massaging his jaw and smearing blood over his chin.

Chase takes a step forward, and Keith does as well, but Iverson is quick to stick himself between them. “You, stay right there!” He yells at Chase, who stops dead in his tracks. “You, step back.” He says sternly to Keith, who looks like he’s seconds away from punching  _ Iverson _ in the face as well, but he listens. Then Iverson turns toward Pidge and Lance, now standing side by side, frowning deeply.

“All four of you, come with me.” Iverson says, and everyone follows, gathering their respective backpacks that have all been abandoned on the white tile floor. Iverson keeps one hand curled tight around Keith and Chase’s forearms. Chase is glaring daggers at Keith, and Lance can’t help but notice that Keith looks deflated, almost  _ guilty _ . He doesn’t look back at him or Pidge, and Lance almost wonders if Keith is scared to see their reactions.

Pidge leans into Lance’s side as they walk, and Lance doesn’t mention how their expression is the same one they’d worn the day they’d returned from that funeral. 

  
  
  
  


Keith doesn’t get suspended. Iverson drags them to the main office, and they’re all split up to talk to different teachers, though it feels more like an interrogation. Lance and Keith must have told the same story - that they happened upon the crowd, saw that their friend was being harassed, and stepped in to help them. Well, Keith did. And ran, more like - because the teachers don’t seem that suspicious when the four of them are put in the same room once again. 

Chase gets suspended, however, and Lance wonders if perhaps Pidge is a bit more sneaky and manipulative than they may seem. He later learns that Chase has a record of bullying others, but in the moment, it seems like a miracle that  _ he’s _ the one being punished and not Keith. 

Both Keith  _ and _ Chase get sent home, though. The office staff lets Lance and Pidge wait there to see Keith off, though Iverson is very obviously against the notion, judging by the way he huffs out of the office with an angry look toward their group. Lance catches Pidge flipping him off, and he stifles a laugh when the secretary quietly chides them from her desk across the room. 

The school nurse comes over with some ice for Keith’s hand, and he takes it with a polite thank you, to which she smiles in return before leaving. Lance tries not to look at Keith’s raw knuckles.

“Does it hurt?” Pidge asks, gesturing loosely toward Keith’s hand. 

Keith shakes his head, though the minute wince Lance sees when the ice slips doesn’t convince them he’s totally fine. Pidge gives Keith a staredown, and Keith pointedly ignores them. There’s a tension between them and it feels like a thousand words are being said in their silence, and it’s so deeply  _ personal _ that Lance shifts awkwardly in his seat, wondering if he should give them some privacy for their not-conversation. 

Then the door opens and both their heads snap up, and Lance can see the recognition in their faces. The way Keith frowns and trains his eyes on the floor at his feet tells him it’s probably the brother he’d been talking about just an hour before. 

Pidge greets the man with a small, tired smile, and Keith keeps his eyes on the floor. His brother’s expression shifts from politely happy to one of concern as he turns from Pidge to Keith, but switches straight back to politely happy as he turns to Lance with a smile. Lance smiles back, though he’s not quite sure what to think of the brothers.

“Hey, I’m Shiro, Keith’s brother. You must be one of his friends.” He says, holding out one hand. Lance hesitates for a second as he realizes it’s a prosthetic, but then takes it, nodding.

And it’s like a light bulb goes off in his head, because he  _ recognizes _ Shiro.

“Whoa, you’re Takashi Shirogane! Pilot of the Persephone! You were on the Kerberos mission!” He rambles, giddy with excitement, because he and Hunk had learned everything they possibly could about the Kerberos mission and it’s crew back when it was still in the advertisement stage. “Sorry, I’m just super excited to meet you, you were my idol in middle school. I’m Lance McClain, Keith’s friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Lance. You seem to know a lot about me.” Shiro smiles, and holy shit, Lance’s idol is actually  _ impressed _ by something he’s done. Holy shit. 

“Well, nothing you couldn’t get off the internet, I guess. But I did think you were pretty awesome. Are pretty awesome.” Lance continues. He glances at Keith and gestures vaguely at Shiro. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your brother is the most famous pilot in Garrison history?!” 

There’s a sour grimace on Keith’s face, and from the warning look Pidge sends him, Lance figures it must be a sore subject. 

“Because it wasn’t any of your business.” Keith says dryly. Lance feels himself drooping

“Okay, since the tension in this room could literally be cut with a knife, I’m going back to class.” Pidge says, standing and gathering their things. “It was nice to see you, Shiro. I’ll tell Matt you said hi.”

“Thanks, Pidge. It was nice to see you too.” Shiro waves her off, and Pidge disappears.

“You should go back to class too.” Keith says, nudging Lance with his good hand, looking a little less sour than before. “You shouldn’t miss anything because of me.”

The way he says it makes it seem like Keith’s actually  _ guilty _ over Lance waiting with him, and it makes Lance’s heart ache. “Dude, I’d give almost anything to get out of class. And besides, I got to meet your brother. We’re friends. It makes sense I should meet your family, y’know?”

Keith’s expression is unreadable, and Lance is immensely curious what kind of relationship Keith and Shiro have that makes it so strained between them. “But yeah, I should head back to class, at least now that I know you’re going home. There’s no way I wanna be here when Chase passes.” 

Lance pretends not to notice the way Keith and his brother share a look at the mention of Chase. It’s not the look he’d expect: Keith’s the one who looks pissed off and frustrated, while Shiro just looks tired, the same way Pidge had, but hidden a little better. Definitely not the way Lance’s own parents would react to being told he’d just punched a dude in front of an entire crowd at school.

He heads out of the office with a soft goodbye to Keith and a polite wave to Shiro, and as he gets to the stairs, he looks back to see Keith storming out the front doors, curled in on himself, Shiro chasing after him with concern radiating off him in waves.

  
  
  
  


When Keith comes to school the next morning, they don’t talk about the fight until lunch, when Hunk, having only heard bits and pieces the day before when Lance explained why he’d been late to English, brings it up. It’s only out of curiosity, both Lance and Pidge know that, but Keith looks sheepish. He still tells Hunk all about what happened, with Lance throwing in details on how cool Keith looked decking Chase and Pidge telling them about what happened before Keith and Lance arrived on the scene.

“You should’ve seen him tackle the guy, Hunk, it was awesome! Y’know, I bet you’d make a great football player, Keith. You’ve proven to us you’ve got the  _ skills _ .” Lance says, half-jokingly.

Keith frowns. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Do what?” Lance’s brows pinch in confusion.

“Pretend that I’m actually a good person for punching Chase. It’s not like I’m going to be upset if you tell me it was a dumb move.” Keith doesn’t look at the group, sounding sullen.

“Dude, Keith,” Lance scoffs. “That wasn’t a dumb move. Pidge was being bullied by an asshole who apparently has a record of bullying. They’re like, your best friend, it makes sense that you’d wanna stick up for them. And if your method of sticking up for them involved punching him in the face, Hell, I’m not gonna complain! You’ve done us a favor, in my opinion.”

Pidge and Hunk both hum in agreement. Keith still looks unsure, and Lance swears he hunches up on himself a little bit more, which isn’t exactly a good sign. So he tries a little harder. 

“And hey, now I know that if I’m ever in a jam, I’ve got the Red Ranger of Justice on my side to come beat up the baddies for me!” Lance continues. 

Pidge shoots him a nasty look. Hunk sighs dramatically. Keith’s face scrunches in frustration.

“No!” He yells, face growing pink, though most likely not out of embarrassment or bashfulness. “No, never again. I’m not gonna come save you next time, no more ‘justice’ bullshit, okay?! Next time we’re gonna call a teacher or get video evidence. Just-” His next words fall with the finality of a judge’s hammer. “No more fighting.”

“Okay dude, no need to yell! I  get it.” Lance says, feeling a little sheepish.

Hunk, ever the peacemaker, expectedly comes to the rescue. “Chill, dude, we get it. No more fighting. It’s cool. Lance was just trying to say that we respect you protecting Pidge, that we don’t think you did anything wrong by reacting that way when you saw them in danger. It’s all cool.”

Lance’s gaze automatically shifts over to Pidge, and he finds them looking just as uncomfortable as Keith, their hazel eyes trained on the floor as they (likely) lose themselves in their thoughts. 

There’s awkward silence for a few moments. Neither Keith nor Pidge move to say anything, and Lance is doing his best to think up a conversation starter when Hunk blurts out what they’re both thinking, “Although, if you don’t mind me asking, why  _ are _ you so against fighting?”

Keith still looks uncomfortable as hell, and Lance catches Pidge curling into a ball off to the side, but Keith answers anyway, and Lance has a feeling it’s something he needs to get off his chest.

“You know I transferred here, right?” He says, looking between Lance and Hunk. “Did you ever wonder why I transferred five cities away, three-fourths into my senior year?”

Lance and Hunk share a look, because they  _ have _ wondered. Lance can’t help his subconscious telling him Keith was the “good friend” of Pidge’s that was in the hospital, and he figures Hunk probably came to the same conclusion, but they have no actual confirmation. And Keith hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about his home life, or his past, or a whole lot about himself, really.

“We didn’t wanna ask you outright.” Lance says quietly. “We didn’t want to make you feel like you had to tell us, if you weren’t comfortable enough with us yet.”

There’s an upward tilt to Keith’s mouth that Lance interprets as him being grateful, and he offers a slight smile in return. Keith takes a deep breath, as if putting on armor. He looks small and tired and for the first time, Lance takes notice of the bags under Keith’s eyes. Has he been sleeping?

“I changed schools because I got into a fight and put someone in the ER.” Keith says.

“...what.” Despite how cryptic Keith seems, and all the little hints of things that Lance has no context for, this is certainly the last thing he was expecting, because Keith is nice. He’s peaceful (apart from their arguments, though Lance is just as at fault in igniting them) and has seemed to stand at a distance from conflict. The closest thing to conflict he’s seen Keith partake in is that one standoff with Iverson. And, of course, the fight with Chase, which is a whole other story. 

Lance knows he’s gaping, can tell from the “dude you’re ruining this” look Hunk sends his way, can tell from how Keith seems to deflate just a little, but his mind is stuck trying to connect the dots and it takes him a second to fully register that he might be making the situation worse.

“Sorry, sorry!” He says hurriedly. “I’m just surprised. That’s totally not what I was expecting. Not that you could put someone in the E.R., I mean, you totally nailed Chase, so you’re definitely a good fighter, I just-” Lance forces himself to stop rambling, as it’s obviously not helping. “You’re a nice guy, y’know? Doesn’t seem like you’d beat someone up for no reason.”

Keith flicks a piece of gravel tracked in from outside across the tile floor, watching it until it rolls to a stop, his eyebrows furrowed. “At first it was just because I’m gay. I told you I’m from a religious town?” He says toward Lance, who nods slowly. “They were going on and on about how homosexuality is sin and whatnot. And of course that’s shit, but it wasn’t what set me off.”

Keith takes a deep breath, like he’s getting ready to rip off a scab, and Lance can feel the tension in the room building from the pause.

“They insulted my mom for giving birth to me.” He says, quick and hushed, as if so nobody could hear but the four of them. “That’s what started the fight.” 

The statement echoes off the walls. Hunk looks at a loss for words, worry and horror and sympathy all apparent in his expression, if only because Lance knows him so well. Pidge’s face is a mix of undefinable emotions and Lance almost wonders if they’ve heard this story before, judging by the way their fists curl around their sleeves and their teeth are visibly grinding. 

Lance knows he’s gaping again, should be saying something, but Keith’s words are bouncing around in his head, replaying again and again and drowning out all his other thoughts. 

Apart from that short almost-conversation he’d had with Keith right before the fight with Chase had interrupted their day, Keith has never once, in all the months they’ve known him, talked about his mom. He’s either avoided the topic or kept silent, and Lance is starting to understand why.

No one pressures Keith for any details, and there’s silence for a good ten seconds or so, before Hunk - as always - decides to break it with a hushed, “Wow...that sounds horrible.”

The look that flashes across Keith’s face is solemn and full of pain, and Lance can tell there’s a lot more to the story than what Keith has offered up, but it’s really not his business. He and Hunk share a look across the hall that says neither of them are going to pester Keith anymore, the two of them nodding to each other in a silent promise Lance swears he’s going to abide by.

Then the bell rings, and the four of them part ways with half-hearted goodbyes and a hell of a lot of unasked questions floating around in their minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more about Keith's past is revealed! owo


	5. Chapter 5

The day of the fight, Keith consistently avoids his brother, desperate to avoid talking about it for as long as humanly possible, assuming he can’t avoid it forever.

(He knows he can’t, but there is something to be said about Shiro’s lack of conviction when it comes to prying  _ anything _ out of Keith.)

But, come the soonest weekend - three days after the fight at school - Shiro corners Keith in his room and stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest in that hardened big-brother way Keith used to be intimidated by when he was young, because it meant Shiro was going to push and push until he finally spilled whatever it was Shiro wanted to hear. It’s been a long time since Keith was intimidated by his brother, though. A very long time. 

“What do you want from me?” Keith snaps, not even sparing a glance at Shiro. “If it’s an apology, you’re not gonna get one. And if you want me to ‘spill my woes’ or some bullshit, just leave.” 

Shiro stands silent, and Keith scowls, tearing his gaze from the drawing he’s working on to his brother across the room. His scowl loosens a little when he finds Shiro simply standing there. No hurt expression, nothing on his face indicating something deeper than curiosity. 

“That’s not what I want.” He says.

Keith doesn’t break eye contact, obviously waiting for an elaboration.

“Look, it’s clear you don’t wanna talk to me about this, or about…” Shiro trails off, looking distant for just a split second, before his eyes harden again. “So, I’m not going to push you. Anyone can see it’s only keeping us farther apart.” 

Keith wonders what kind of expression he’s wearing, because he definitely feels shocked. What on Earth caused Shiro to suddenly give up? Even though that’s exactly what Keith wanted…

“And you don’t need to apologize for what happened with that kid at school. Pidge called the night after the incident and explained everything. I probably would’ve done the same thing if it were Matt being bullied, though maybe not so... _ straightforward _ .” 

Somehow, that has Keith smiling - just barely, because he’s still pissed at his brother, but it feels as if a little bit of the tension between them has lifted. He can tell Shiro notices, and his brother smiles too, scratches at the back of his neck the way he does when he’s not sure what to say.

“Thanks, Shiro.” Keith supplies. 

Shiro nods. “No problem.” 

Keith’s eyes stay on the door even after his brother has left and pulled it shut. And then, without warning, guilt comes crashing down on him, dissipating the momentary relief completely. How many weeks has Shiro tried to be an in-home therapist so Keith could get shit off his chest that he would never talk about with anyone else? How many weeks has Keith pushed him away, praying he would finally get the hint and leave him the fuck alone about everything? 

And yeah, this is what he wanted. So then...why does it  _ hurt? _

Out of nowhere, his phone starts buzzing, and when he picks it up, Lance’s name is flashing on the screen.  _ What timing, _ Keith thinks. He’s more than a little bit surprised when the text reads as a private message. Lance hasn’t texted him outside of their group chat with Pidge and Hunk ever since the first day they traded numbers, when Lance made fun of his hair.

[ Lance ] (3:27 PM) how do you feel about a game of twenty questions?  
[ Lance ] (3:27 PM) like, i’ll ask you a question and we both answer, then you ask one, etc.

[ Keith ] (3:28 PM) Isn’t Twenty Questions supposed to be where you think of something and the other person asks questions to try and guess what the thing is?

[ Lance ] (3:39 PM) oh look at keith being so technical 

Keith can’t help chuckling, and again goes the weight on his shoulders, disappearing for what is probably only a little while, but Hell, even a little while is better than never, right? 

[ Lance ] (3:41 PM) doesn’t matter tho. you wanna play or not?

[ Keith ] (3:41 PM) Sure.

  
  
  
  


Keith learns more about Lance McClain in two hours than he ever thought he’d have learned at all during their friendship. 

He learns the names of all of Lance’s family members, and a couple of their friends. He learns a variety of Lance’s favorite foods. He learns Lance’s favorite color is blue - not a surprise, considering most of his school supplies are, in fact, blue. He learns Lance and Hunk have been friends since they were born because their moms were friends in college. He learns that the two of them spent a good month practically stalking Pidge to try and be their friend, while Pidge actively avoided them because they thought the boys were being creepy.

It’s a lot of information, and it makes Keith’s heart swell in an unfamiliar way. And because Lance is so forthcoming with facts about himself, Keith takes the liberty of returning the gesture.

He tells Lance about Shiro, and Allura, though not in great detail, because he’s still mad at his brother, a little bit. He tells Lance about what a pain being atheist in a strictly religious town was. He tells Lance he’s allergic to gluten and lactose, tells him his favorite food is bimbimbap, a Korean dish Shiro used to make a lot when they were younger. He tells Lance his favorite animal is the hippopotamus because they’re the most powerful animal on the entire African continent, yet people are constantly underestimating them and calling them cute.

Lance never asks about him getting kicked out of school, or why he got kicked out of school, or why he doesn’t mention either of his parents, only his brother and his brother’s girlfriend. Lance doesn’t ask, just takes what Keith offers and returns his own opinions, and Keith appreciates it.

Keith dreads the moment Lance has to say goodbye to go eat dinner, because without Lance’s texts, the heavy weight of tension settles back on Keith’s shoulders, and he’s all alone again.

  
  
  
  


[ Lance ] (5:32 AM) hey mullet, which is better, captain crunch or cheerios? 

Keith can barely see the screen through sleep-haze, and he rubs at his eyes, trying to make the morning blur go away so he can see why the fuck Lance is texting him at 6:30 AM. When he can finally read the content of the message, his confusion isn’t lessened at all.

[ Keith ] (5:34 AM) You woke me up half an hour before I need to get up, on a school day, after we were up late last night, to ask me about cereal? 

[ Lance ] (5:35 AM) uh, yeah?  
[ Lance ] (5:35 AM) i need someone to sway this argument between me and my little sibs, and i can’t ask pidge or hunk bc pidge would murder me and hunk is still asleep

[ Keith ] (5:36 AM) I was asleep too before you woke me up! 

[ Lance ] (5:37 AM) sorry  
[ Lance ] (5:37 AM) so, captain crunch or cheerios?

Something in the sequence of those texts makes Keith sure Lance isn’t actually sorry.

[ Keith ] (5:38 AM) Cheerios, obviously.

[ Lance ] (5:40 AM ) my siblings are all screaming in my ear now so thank you for that, keith  
[ Lance ] (5:41 AM) if i go deaf bc of this i’m gonna dump captain crunch on you while you sleep

[ Keith ] (5:42 AM) You asked for my opinion, not my fault you’re on the wrong side of the war.

[ Lance ] (5:42 AM) you’re a terrible friend

  
  
  
  


[ Lance ] (9:09 PM) so what the fuck is up with your mullet, exactly? what possessed you to have your hair styled like that? seriously, i need to know now

[ Keith ] (9:10 PM) It’s not a mullet. My hair just grows like that.

[ Lance ] (9:11 PM) wow. i really do learn something new about you every day

[ Keith ] (9:11 PM) Shut up.

  
  
  
  


[ Lance ] (7:38 PM) okay so i told you how hunk n i met pidgey, tell me how you met them!  
[ Lance ] (7:39 PM) i’m actually super duper curious now 

[ Keith ] (7:41 PM) It isn’t an exciting story or anything, if that’s what you’re hoping for.

[ Lance ] (7:42 PM) doesn’t matter! I’m curious, so spill it, mullet!

[ Keith ] (7:43 PM) Stop calling me that.  
[ Keith ] (7:45 PM) We literally met at a Garrison introduction ceremony, because we got dragged along by our brothers and parents. The academic speeches were really boring and we were the only kids there, so we made friends and went exploring around the school.  
[ Keith ] (7:46 PM) Pidge picked the lock on one of the staff offices. We messed around on one of the professor’s computers and then got banned from campus.

[ Lance ] (7:46 PM) that  
[ Lance ] (7:47 PM) HOW IS THAT NOT AN EXCITING STORY?!

  
  
  
  


[ Keith ] (2:01 PM) Can I ask why Iverson hates you so much? He actually targets you in class and I honestly don’t get what his fucking problem is.

[ Lance ] (2:01 PM) oh yeah. that  
[ Lance ] (2:02 PM) so on the first day of school i kinda dropped my water bottle in his class and it broke open and spilled all over the floor  
[ Lance ] (2:02 PM) and he was stomping over to me so fast he slipped on the water and fell  
[ Lance ] (2:03 PM) it was actually really funny tbh but he’s hated me ever since

[ Keith ] (2:04 PM) I can relate to Iverson. You seem to make pretty shit first impressions.

[ Lance ] (2:05 PM) OH SHUT UP

Keith snickers, turning his phone brightness up a few notches as the sun comes out from behind some clouds and starts blaring through his window. In a total of five weeks, Keith has observed Iverson target Lance with questions, obviously expecting Lance not to know the answer, or very clearly knowing he won’t, due to him being distracted for any manner of reasons. Keith swears Iverson almost  _ waits _ to see Lance get distracted - whether he be digging through his bag for his pencil sharpener or picking something up off the floor - and uses that moment to bombard him.

It’s fucked up, Keith thinks, and it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair, because Lance actually works very hard in his classes, as much as he makes jokes about procrastinating on essays or protesting the fact every teacher gives them a half hour of homework every night and it all adds up to three hours of shit they should be learning while they’re actually  _ in _ school. Long story short, Keith hates Iverson.

[ Lance ] (2:08 PM) hey uh  
[ Lance ] (2:09 PM) i wanted to ask

There’s a minute too long of a pause between messages, and Keith’s gut churns, wondering what kind of question Lance is hesitating to ask him. So far, Lance hasn’t asked for any personal information that Keith hasn’t offered up, and he wonders what question has him changing that.

[ Lance ] (2:12 PM) that first day you started here, in physics after you stood up to iverson?  
[ Lance ] (2:12 PM) you said you knew what it’s like to be treated like you’re worthless  
[ Lance ] (2:13 PM ) i’m curious what you meant by that. if you don’t mind sharing

Keith sucks in a harsh breath, staring at Lance’s surprisingly sheepish and awkward set of texts. His gut churns a little more and for a brief moment, he debates telling Lance everything.

[ Keith ] (2:15 PM) I do mind, if that’s okay.

[ Lance ] (2:16 PM) yeah yeah that’s fine! just curious. no pressure to answer  
[ Lance ] (2:16 PM) sorry if i overstepped

[ Keith ] (2:16 PM) It’s fine.

Lance doesn’t text him again after that, and Keith doesn’t have the will to try and redirect the conversation, so instead he shoves his phone under his pillow and prays for sleep to come.

  
  
  
  


[ Keith ] (1:59 AM) So, what’s your favorite musician?

[ Lance ] (1:59 AM) is that really the best you’ve got, kogane?  
[ Lance ] (2:00 AM) you’ve had AGES to come up with something more intricate than that!

Keith frowns at his screen. They’ve been texting back and forth since roughly 9PM, when Lance finally got some alone time from his family and was, quote on quote, “bored enough to text Keith instead of anything else.” Keith still isn’t sure if Lance was joking or if he should be offended, but he made enough of a show of being offended at the time that he doesn’t think it matters now.

[ Keith ] (2:01 AM) Shut up and answer the goddamn question, McClain. I used Google.

[ Lance ] (2:02 AM) i am so not surprised you use google for 20 questions  
[ Lance ] (2:02 AM) and it’s pretty shitty you asked this question  
[ Lance ] (2:02 AM) it’s a hard one to answer

[ Keith ] (2:03 AM) Really? It’s an easy one for me.

[ Lance ] (2:04 AM) well if it’s so easy for you to pick your favorite, then you answer first!

[ Keith ] (2:04 AM) Frank Sinatra.

It isn’t until he’s already sent the text, completely on default, that Keith realizes Lance is probably going to task  _ why _ Frank Sinatra is his favorite musician, and he kinda doesn’t want to explain.

[ Lance ] (2:05 AM) y’know somehow i’m not surprised  
[ Lance ] (2:05 AM)  you seem like an old-timey music kinda guy

[ Keith ] (2:06 AM) What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

[ Lance ] (2:08 AM) it doesn’t mean anything! i just know you like chill music. and i know you have ben e king songs on your ipod so it makes sense that you’d like frank sinatra

[ Keith ] (2:09 AM) The way you worded that was really weird, just so you know.  
[ Keith ] (2:09 AM) Have you decided who your favorite musician is?

[ Lance ] (2:09 AM) uuuuuuuggggghhhhh

Keith, like many instances during their text-chat conversations, finds himself snickering at Lance. 

[ Lance ] (2:13 AM) okay i asked hunk and pidge what they think my favorite is  
[ Lance ] (2:13 AM) because i listen to so much music it’s hard to choose  
[ Lance ] (2:14 AM) and i’ve decided my favorite musician is marina and the diamonds

[ Keith ] (2:15 AM) I’ve never actually heard of them.

[ Lance ] (2:15 AM) WHAT  
[ Lance ] (2:16 AM) okay we’re fixing this right now

[ Keith ] (2:16 AM) Oh God.

[ Lance ] (2:17 AM) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6O6jZcKpNQ  
[ Lance ] (2:18 AM) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wE-FNDxoqFE  
[ Lance ] (2:18 AM) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHALM2J-4eU  
[ Lance ] (2:19 AM) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZlNGPbS-KA

[ Keith ] (2:20 AM) Lance please.

[ Lance ] (2:21 AM) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gr9AeY3bCwc  
[ Lance ] (2:21 AM) there. a good variety of matd beauty

[ Keith ] (2:22 AM) I’m going to be here until fuckng 4AM so please don’t send any more.

[ Lance ] (2:23 AM) oh stop exaggerating  
[ Lance ] (2:23 AM) you’re being educated

[ Keith ] (2:24 AM) In Marina and the Diamonds.

[ Lance ] (2:24 AM) precisely

A small smile plays on Keith’s lips, because he can totally imagine the smug look on Lance’s face at finding something Keith  _ doesn’t _ know about, because he  _ knows _ that’s how Lance sees this: as a one-over on Keith because Keith is “uncultured” in mainstream music. 

[ Keith ] (2:33 AM) This definitely isn’t my favorite style of music, but I see why you like it.  
[ Keith ] (2:34 AM) It’s exactly the kind of thing I imagined you’d listen to.

[ Lance ] (2:35 AM) what’s that supposed to mean??!!!

[ Keith ] (2:35 AM) Nothing at all.

Lance’s next text is a long string of angry-face emojis and Keith laughs. Then there’s a short text from Lance, containing nothing but a light bulb emoji, and for some reason, Keith’s concerned.

[ Lance ] (2:37 AM) GASP

[ Keith ] (2:37 AM) Godammit, what now?

[ Lance ] (2:38 AM) I HAVE THE PERFECT MATD SONG FOR YOU MULLET MAN  
[ Lance ] (2:39 AM) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0MGs-_9hkw

Minutes pass.

[ Keith ] (2:43 AM) Okay I actually do like this one.

[ Lance ] (2:44 AM) HA  
[ Lance ] (2:44 AM) success

[ Keith ] (2:45 AM) Yeah, yeah, you’ve converted me, don’t let it go to your head.

[ Lance ] (2:46 AM) oh shut up keith  
[ Lance ] (2:46 AM) anywhoosies  
[ Lance ] (2:47 AM) next question: why are they your favorite?

[ Keith ] (2:47 AM) Uh.

And there it is, the question Keith was scared of. There’s contradiction in his mind, because this is _Lance McClain_. Lance, who always answers every one of Keith’s boring, mediocre queries without hesitation, and usually in detail or with an entertaining story to back it up. Lance, who has always respected Keith’s boundaries on what not to talk about, who has never pressured Keith to answer a question he clearly isn’t comfortable with. Lance, who is such a _truly_ _good person_.

[ Lance ] (2:50 AM) you don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal  
[ Lance ] (2:50 AM) sorry

[ Keith ] (2:50 AM) No, it’s fine.

Keith takes a deep breath, tells himself that it’s Lance McClain. Lance McClain will understand.

[ Keith ] (2:51 AM) It’s because he was my mom’s favorite.  
[ Keith ] (2:52 AM) She used to play songs by him all the time. When we were driving, when we were making dinner, constantly. A lot of my memories of her are mixed with Frank Sinatra, so.  
[ Keith ] (2:53 AM) I guess listening to him makes me feel a little closer to her, y’know?

[ Lance ] (2:54 AM) whoa  
[ Lance ] (2:55 AM) that got really fucking deep

[ Keith ] (2:56 AM) Lance!

[ Lance ] (2:57 AM) okay i’m sorry! it’s just that you never talk about her  
[ Lance ] (2:58 AM) and then when you do you say it like she’s dead or something

[ Keith ] (2:58 AM) She is.

There’s a decent lapse of silence between Keith’s last text out and Lance’s reply. Keith is expecting it - honestly, who’s gonna have something to say right after an admittance like  _ that?? _ \- but it still makes him nervous. What will Lance’s reply _ be _ ? Is he going to apologize, like everyone in the ICU did every single day when a new nurse came by to check on him and had the situation explained to them? Will he simply not reply at all? Keith kinda-maybe doesn’t  _ want _ to know.

The gap between messages is long enough that Keith’s screen times out, and when his phone vibrates with Lance’s reply, Keith hesitates to open the text.

[ Lance ] (2:30 AM) What was she like? 

Keith blanks. 

Maybe it’s because this is the first non-pitying response Keith’s gotten from anyone upon hearing that particular tidbit of information. Maybe it’s because Keith really  _ does _ want to talk to someone about his mother, someone who isn’t biased or pitying or  _ Shiro _ . Maybe it’s because it’s Lance McClain, and it’s already been proven that logic doesn’t always apply when he’s involved. 

Whatever it is, Keith feels relieved.

[ Keith ] (2:32 AM) Well.

Keith takes a deep breath. It’s been a while since he’s talked about her, since he’s  _ thought _ of her without forcing back tears, because the one thing he remembers of his dad is that  _ men don’t cry. _

[ Keith ] (2:33 AM) She was kind, sturdy. Like an oak tree, kinda. She was honest and told me the truth about things, even though all the other parents in town tried to shelter their kids from fucking everything. She stood up to people if they did something she didn’t approve of and refused to back down and move away just because some people didn’t like her that much.  
[ Keith ] (2:34 AM) She was in the military when I was little, and sometimes she would kind of space out, like she was on another planet. She used to joke that when she zoned out it was because she wasn’t from Earth and was daydreaming about being back on her home planet.  
[ Keith ] (2:34 AM) She was a great chef. I’ve always been allergic to a ton of things so she had a ton of these fancy diet cookbooks that she collected, all over the house, and she’d experiment with all these different recipes all the time because she wanted me to have options with food.  
[ Keith ] (2:35 AM) And she really liked Frank Sinatra. She had vinyls of him, CDs of him. I’m about 90% sure she had a really old, fraying poster of him hidden under her bed. 

[ Lance ] (2:35 AM) whoa  
[ Lance ] (2:35 AM) she sounds pretty awesome  
[ Lance ] (2:35 AM) seriously though? a poster of frank sinatra under her bed?

[ Keith ] (2:35 AM) Yeah. It’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?

[ Lance ] (2:36 AM) it’s hella creepy dude!

It must be a Lance McClain thing, being able to make Keith laugh when all signs point toward this not being a laughing moment. It’s nice, being able to talk about her like this. Casually, without any therapists looming over him and scribbling mysteriously on their clipboards, without his brother trying and failing to hide that pity-crossed-with-depression-crossed-with-disappointment look. 

[ Lance ] (2:37 AM) okay  
[ Lance ] (2:37 AM) as much as i’d love to stay up all night learning about your mom’s frank sinatra obsession, and i am totally going to ask you for more on that later, btw  
[ Lance ] (2:38 AM) it’s like. almost 3am and we have school tomorrow

[ Keith ] (2:39 AM) Today, technically.

[ Lance ] (2:39 AM) oh god, don’t remind me  
[ Lance ] (2:39 AM) anyways, g’night

[ Keith ] (2:40 AM) Hey Lance?

[ Lance ] (2:40 AM) yeah?

Keith wonders how to say this without sounding stupid, or bland, or ungrateful. 

[ Keith ] (2:41 AM) Thank you.

A couple seconds pass - just a couple, but enough for Keith to have a momentary panic over if Lance doesn’t get what he means, what if he’s being too vague, what if-

[ Lance ] (2:42 AM) anytime dude

Keith breathes a sigh of relief, and Lance’s little bubble in the chat goes from green to grey as he logs off, presumably to sleep. Keith logs off as well and plugs his phone in, then burrows under his covers and stares at the wall, wondering what the fuck this mixture of feelings is. There’s an obvious glint of sadness, and Keith knows exactly where that’s from. But what the fuck is this goddamn  _ warmth _ ?? His blankets aren’t thick enough to be causing this. And his fan’s on.

Pulling his comforter up and under his chin, Keith ignores the dumb warmth and goes to sleep.

  
  
  
  


[ Lance ] (6:42 AM) dUDE  
[ Lance ] (6:42 AM) WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOUR BIRTHDAY’S TOMORROW????

Keith is almost to his stop near Arus High when he gets the texts, and his brow furrows. What on Earth is Lance talking about? It takes him a moment of thinking, before he finally looks at the date and realizes that tomorrow is, in fact, his birthday. Just...not his real one.

[ Keith ] (6:45 AM) It’s not, actually.  
[ Keith ] (6:45 AM) It’s October 23rd.  
[ Keith ] (6:45 AM) Pidge told you about this, didn’t they?

[ Lance ] (6:46 AM) uh yeah

Before Keith can respond, the bus is squealing to a halt, and he shoves his phone in his pocket. As expected, Pidge is waiting for him when he steps off the bus, and  _ not _ as expected, so are Lance and Hunk. Lance is wearing a confused-slash-annoyed expression, and Keith waits.

“What the hell do you mean, tomorrow’s not actually your birthday?!” He shouts.

_ There it is. _

Keith shoots Pidge a frown, and they smirk back at him, shrugging. 

“What? It’s not like it’s some big secret. And besides, I needed someone else to torture you over this with me!”

“Okay, that makes us sound like criminals,” Hunk says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “What exactly is this hullabaloo all about?”

Pidge goes to speak, but Keith slaps a hand over their mouth and explains. “In primary school, somehow my teacher got my birthday wrong in her chart of birthdays or whatever, and they threw a party for me in the completely wrong season. As a kid I didn’t care about the date, so I never actually corrected her, and they kept throwing birthdays for me until sixth grade, when my mom eventually realized what was happening and made sure they had my real birthday.”

“ _ And _ ,” He continues, ignoring Pidge’s attempts at licking his hand to break free. “When I told this idiot about it, they sent me a present in April as a prank to make fun of it, and now it’s a tradition.”

“Whoa, so you practically get two birthdays a year? That’s awesome!” Lance says, excited.

Keith’s hand is now certifably slimy, so he lets go of Pidge, who scowls and sticks their tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes. Hunk suggests they head to class before they all end up late, and on the way, Pidge brings up the possibility of them all meeting the next day to celebrate.

“It’s not something that needs celebrating, Pidge. It’s not even my real birthday.” Keith says.

“Maybe not, but it’s a _tradition_! And you’re close enough to me now that we can actually _do_ something together instead of me just sending you present emojis over text.” Pidge counters, a smile on their face. They’re clearly into this idea. “ _And,_ we could stand to hang out as a group outside of school sometimes. That’s what friends do, y’know.”

That last bit seems more than a little pointed, and Keith raises an eyebrow at Pidge, but says nothing as they approach the main hall of the school. Keith agrees to discuss ideas for their (possible) outing later during lunch, and the group splits off to go to their individual lockers. 

In reality, spending a day with Pidge, Lance, and Hunk doesn’t actually sound too bad. They’re his friends, and as much as Pidge may have been joking earlier, he hasn’t actually  _ had _ friends to hang out with, seeing as the only real friend he’s ever had before now is Pidge, and they’ve always been too many miles away to even visit every once in a while. This could be… fun.

Keith could use some fun, all things considered.

  
  
  
  


After a decent debate between whether they should go to a laser tag rink or marathon Star Wars at Lance’s house - and maybe Keith votes for laser tag because he’s a little bit intimidated by the idea of meeting Lance’s family, even though he already knows a great deal about them - a group outing for the next day is settled and planned, and when Keith wakes up the next morning, he finds himself actually _ looking forward _ to being awake for an extended period of time.

He finds two small boxes in matching red wrapping paper outside his door, and he expects them both to be from Shiro, chuckling to himself when one of the tags reads Allura with a little mouse doodled under the signature. Shiro must have told her about the stupid birthday mishap.

Keith opens the one from Allura first, and it contains a pack of the fancy graphite drawing pencils he’d been shamelessly ogling one time when he and Allura had gone to the mall together on a quest for eyeliner. He’d never have expected her to notice, or at least, not to remember. With an embarrassing second of hesitation, Keith opens the gift from his brother. Inside is a hardback copy of The Secret Life of Bees, his favorite book of all time.

A book that was unfortunately destroyed, among many other things that had made up Keith’s life before he ended up moving to the city, miles away from everything he’d ever known.

He sets the book aside, ignoring the way it pulls on his heartstrings, because yeah, the first thing he thinks of when he sees that bright yellow cover is his mom reading it to him before bed.

He also pushes aside the voice in his head telling him this is yet another reason to be annoyed and frustrated with his brother.

Even though it’s nearly ten in the morning, it’s a Saturday, so Shiro is still holed up in his room as Keith steps quietly through their apartment. He shoves a few snacks in his backpack in case the place they choose to eat at doesn’t have anything wheat or dairy free, and with a quick glance to make sure he has his wallet and phone, Keith locks the door behind him and heads for the bus.

It’s cloudy and grey outside, and while most would be hoping for sun, Keith appreciates the cool breeze. He doesn’t think he’d be able to think straight in anything over eighty degrees, not now.

Keith gets off the bus on Olkari street, which according to Pidge, is essentially the “tech hub” of the city. And while Keith was sort of expecting the normal city environment - grey and red brick buildings, a couple of spindly trees dotted here and there, maybe a half-dead bush or two - what he finds is a long street with so much greenery he’d think it a public park rather than a street of shops if he didn’t have Google Maps telling him this is the exact place he’s supposed to be.

It’s surprisingly barren for a Saturday morning, so when he tracks down the little alleyway path of aspen trees tucked comfortably between an internet café and a computer repair store, he’s run into exactly two people, and they were together. Ironically -  _ very _ ironically, considering this is their tradition in the first place - Pidge isn’t the person waiting for him at the end of the path, but Lance, and Keith can’t help how he suddenly stands a little taller, a little brighter, at the sight of him.

‘It’s nothing,’ Keith tells himself. ‘I’m just excited we’re all gonna hang out is all. It’s _nothing_.’

Lance is leaned back against the bench he’s sitting on, staring up through the leaves of the trees that create a canopy above them, letting in just enough light to see by. When Lance looks up and sees Keith, he smiles from ear to ear and sits up straight to wave enthusiastically, and Keith is smiling too, because goddammit, it’s  _ Lance McClain _ . How can he  _ not _ smile back?

“Happy birthday, mullet!” Lance says, patting the bench beside him. When Keith takes the seat, Lance pulls out a red-wrapped gift box from behind his back - there must be a theme going on, with all the red wrapping paper - and holds it out to Keith. “Here’s your obligatory present.”

“Wow, way to make me feel special.” Keith teases, taking the gift.

“Just shut up and open it.”

Keith does, carefully undoing the tape on the box to preserve the paper (and to annoy Lance, who is quite literally bouncing in his seat) and setting it to the side, revealing a square CD.

“...Michael Bublé?” 

“Yup! He’s a beautiful singer, I think you’ll like him a lot.” Lance explains. “My mom once told me she thinks Michael Bublé is the reincarnation of Frank Sinatra, because their voices and music are very similar. And Frank Sinatra is your favorite musician, so I figured this is a good bet.”

It’s such a thoughtful gift, up alongside Shiro’s gift that morning, and Keith can’t help the warmth that spreads from his chest to his fingers, the tingling and the shiver that goes down his spine. He shouldn’t be surprised, because it’s  _ Lance McClain _ , and it’s already been shown that Lance doesn’t follow Keith’s sense of worldly logic, but a present like this… it touches him.

“Thank you, Lance.” He says, hoping the emotion in his voice shows how truly grateful he is. “Really. I just… thanks.” Smooth, real smooth.

Keith looks up from the CD case and into Lance’s eyes, bluer than the ocean or clear skies. The trees rustle in the wind and sound like the forest Keith remembers from childhood, his cheeks are surely pink from the cold and quite possibly from blood flowing to his face but Keith doesn’t think about it hard enough, his fingers are cold and there’s voices somewhere in the distance.

And then he blinks, and Lance is kissing him, shattering any semblance of peace in Keith’s mind.

His thoughts go haywire, scrambling to find something to focus on, because  _ what the actual fuck _ , until the only thing his brain is unhelpfully spitting out is “Lance is kissing me” and that Keith isn’t doing anything about it. Why would he do something about it? What can he do about it? The fuck is even happening? A memory plays in Keith’s head of the first and last time someone ever said they liked him, and everything that happened afterward, and suddenly he feels nauseous. 

Keith shoves Lance off, perhaps a little too roughly, and stares at the wide-eyed boy in front of him with some sort of negative expression, because Lance looks sheepish and regretful and is probably about to apologize, but Keith doesn’t give him the chance, because he’s on autopilot and his insecurities are running the show.

Lance McClain just kissed him, and is now looking at him, and Keith just gets up and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huehuehue
> 
> also fun fact: the matd thing actually happened to me. thank you reese for spamming me with matd songs until i fell for "oh no"


End file.
